Familiarity
by Kataranara
Summary: Rollo is a traitor, guilty for past sins, and is one of the richest and most powerful lords in all of Frankia. The only problem was that he was a foreign Northmen, fearsome to those who suffered the raids last summer. In order to please his new subjects, and wife, he must change who he was and become someone even greater. At least he had help; Athelstan. Is Rollo crazy or blessed?
1. Chapter 1

**Greetings readers! I am wanting to do a story with multiple chapters. I came up with this idea from watching the most recent episode. Poor Rollo has a lot of work to do to fit in with these Franks but what if he had a friend to help? Hope you enjoy the first chapter. It is basically setting up the scene, the time that you are beginning this journey. Hope you enjoy. I may just make it a oneshot and keep it as is, no more chapters, but I have an idea to add a little bit of mystical Athelstan goodness. Perhaps Rollo is going crazy? Who knows. So here it is! The first chapter that gives you the basic idea of where Rollo is.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING VIKING RELATED. IT IS ALL HISTORY CHANNEL AND I HAVE NO RIGHTS TO SUCH MATERIAL. ORIGINAL PLOT IS MINE. OTHER THAN THAT, IT ALL BELONGS TO HISTORY CHANNEL.**

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"Do not touch me," Gisla demanded, taking a step back from her well-groomed husband. His hair was shorter and his clothing fine, noble colors strewn over his jewels and robes. "You disgust me."

Rollo just watched her with confusion and shock, the derision in her face obvious enough for him to understand. He wasn't sure what to make of her still, even several weeks after their marriage ceremony. Rollo had done everything possible to make himself more appealing to these Franks. He cut his hair, adorned their clothing, and was going out of his way to learn their language and religion. He knew, though, that he would never be one of them; they were quite exclusive with their culture and religion.

Rollo and Gisla were standing in their chambers at the royal palace, their argument heated. The snows were starting to fall and the chill within their chamber was, apparently, disagreeable to his new wife. Rollo hadn't noticed the chill, being used to much worse, so when his wife had yelled at him over the lack of fire in the hearth, he was unsure what she was angry about. He had made the mistake of trying to approach her as well and she responded just as he expected.

"You are annoying," was all Rollo could respond, moving around her to throw some wood on the smoldering embers in the hearth. After filling the hearth and stirring the ambers into a flame again, he stood, wiping the soot and ash from his new clothing. He was surprised to see his wife still standing there, her arms wrapped around herself against the cold. Rollo motioned to the newly crackling hearth and picked up a blanket from the plush bench beside it, offering it to Gisla. It was a heavy fur lined blanket stitched with wool and linen, the scent heavy with pine and lavender.

Rollo offered her the blanket one more time before setting it back down on the bench near the fireplace. He then moved across the room to the bed, removing his boots and shirt before falling onto the plush linen. It smelled of vanilla and lavender, a scent Rollo had come to enjoy quite a bit since he started living in the palace. He stretched sleepily on the bed, the light in the room dimming by the second. The sun had been setting when he finally made it back to their chambers, the meeting with Count Odo and his captain taking longer than he anticipated. They both seemed pleased with his proposed defenses, even the placid Count Odo whom his wife cursed so often.

His stomach rumbled now, his thoughts wandering to the pastries and pies that the Franks had made so well. If there was one thing he did enjoy about this foreign place, it was the food. So much variety and creativeness went into every dish and Rollo enjoyed most of them. He jumped out of bed now, causing Gisla to bounce in surprise as he strode toward the chamber doors. She had finally taken up a spot on the bench near the fireplace, the blanket wrapped tightly around her. He swung the doors open and turned to the guard standing near the door, just down the hall.

"Food," Rollo said to him, motioning for him to leave. "Food and drink."

The guard took the hint, bowing to Rollo before disappearing down the hall. Rollo thought it was entirely unnecessary to post a guard at their door every night. He was sure that he was perfectly capable of protecting himself, and his new wife, from any attempted assassin. As he closed the door he could see, out of the corner of his eye, that Gisla was shivering, pulling the blanket tighter around her body. She had formed a small cocoon around herself, the fire blazing now and illuminating her face. She was just staring into the fire, her eyes wandering the flames as they danced within the hearth. Rollo couldn't help but admire her fine features, the smoothness of her delicate skin and her dark almond eyes more attractive now than they had been that day on the city ramparts. If there was one thing he could say about his wife it was that she was brave, braver than any Frank he had met so far.

A mere woman, with no combat training or skills, was brave enough to stand on the walls of Paris with nothing but a banner and inspire her troops to fight back the Viking horde. He remembers their eyes meeting, the shock and wonder in hers as she watched the "tattooed barbarians swarm the walls like cockroaches". She was truly brave for baring witness to such carnage and ferocity. What was worse was that if the warriors were able to breech the walls, she would have been an unfortunate captive of the pagans she hated. It was after these few moments of pondering that Gisla's eyes snapped to his, suddenly aware of his eyes on her. They darkened with annoyance but Rollo refused to look away. He was unsure if she was shocked at his brazen curiosity, his cool indifference, or the equality of his stubbornness. Either way, she just stared at him, willing herself not to look away. He was sure this was a personal challenge that she set for herself; she probably believed that God would punish her if she lost to her Pagan husband.

After a moment she stood up, the blanket still wrapped tightly around her small frame. For a Frankish woman she was steadily built, taller than most with the fearsome eyes of a warrior. Her long brown hair and creamy skin added to the illusion that she was, as far as the common folk were concerned, a gift from God. These Christians, Rollo remembered, believed that their leaders were chosen by their God and had a divine right to rule. This was a joke to Rollo but as the Emperor pointed, God had lead Rollo to the same fate.

"What are you staring at?" Gisla asked, her voice as icy cold as the rest of her.

"You," Rollo admitted, moving toward the bed again. He sat on the edge of it, staring at the young princess before shrugging and falling back into the covers. He sighed, spreading his arms out over the blankets around him and looking at the darkened ceiling. He could see Gisla's shadow on the ceiling, moving back and forth as she paced in front of the fire. Being a married Christian was a boring agreement; there was nothing more boring than a cold wife. There were no parties, no grand affairs, and nothing fun about it. It was always ceremony and pomp, no real experience other than the foreign customs that Rollo was slowly losing interest in. He wasn't able to drink with the common soldiers, drink in taverns or inns, and he could never enjoy another woman again. Of course, he didn't think that such rules were absolute. He would like to see one of these Franks try to stop him from enjoying the pleasures of drink and women.

It was only when Gisla was standing at the edge of the bed, leaned over to look him in the eyes, that he noticed her. Her hair had fallen from her ear over her cheek, covering part of her face as she looked at him, her eyes narrowed. He wasn't sure why she was leaned over him, staring at his face, but he didn't care. This is as close as he's been to her since their wedding night. Ever since that night she'd kept her distance, sleeping on the bench sometimes. When she stood over him like this he couldn't help but be a little curious about her intentions.

"Yes?" he finally asked, looking first at her face and then at her exposed collarbone. She noticed his eyes wandering and she blushed, standing up straight again and pulling her blanket around her tighter.

"I assumed you were sleeping," she said, turning from him now.

"Were you hoping I was?" he asked, sitting up on his elbows to look at her. "Perhaps you still want to kill me?"

"If only I could," Gisla spat, moving back toward the fireplace. Rollo grabbed her wrist now, standing so that he was towering over her. The look on her face as he stood, his hand tightening around her wrist, could kill. Her eyes had gone wide for a brief moment before they narrowed, daggers flying in his direction. "Let go of me," she hissed, wiggling her wrist from his hand. He sighed, shaking his head as she took a step back, nearly falling over the blanket around her.

"You are angry," Rollo said, watching her closely. "I don't understand you. I am not happy either."

"What could you possibly be unhappy about?" Gisla asked, her eyes growing wide. "You are rich, with title, and have been sold the Princess of Frankia to take in marriage. What is there for you to dislike?"

"You," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You are impossible. Very unpleasant woman."

You object to me?" she asked, the skepticism in her voice evident. "That is impossible, like the dog denying the bone."

"You are boring," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. "You are sour, angry, and cruel. No man would want such a wife."

"And no Christian woman wants an animal for a husband," she growled, turning from him. "If I am so undesirable, why not divorce me?"

"Count Odo said you would say that," Rollo said, a smirk on his face. "He said that because we have not lain together, you would push to divorce."

"And if I did?" she asked, still not facing him.

"I could eliminate such a possibility," Rollo growled, taking a step toward her. He could see her eyes widen and her arms wrap tightly around herself. He just chuckled at this and sat back down on the edge of the bed, his eyes watching her closely. "I won't touch you until you want me to."

"I'll kill you before that happens," she said, throwing the blanket from around her shoulders onto the bench again. Rollo knew there was conviction in her voice but he couldn't help but stare at his young wife. Her white linen night dress was loose around her shoulders, giving him a perfect view of her delicate collar and neck. What was more enticing was that the second she discarded the blanket, her body reacted to the cold of the room, the soft curves she'd tried to hide this whole time peaking in the chilly air. She didn't notice his lingering gaze as she moved around the bed, her hips swaying in the softest of ways. When she reached the opposite side of the bed she threw back the layers of fur and linen, hiking her skirt to lift herself into the large bed. When she was positioned comfortably, a fair distance away from Rollo, she covered herself, her shivering body finding relief in the warmth of the covers.

It was then that Rollo heard a knock on the door, his eyes drifting from Gisla to the disturbance. He had almost forgotten about the food and quickly got up to answer the knock. When he opened the door a man was standing there with a covered tray and flagon, bowing his head in respect. Rollo took them from him, waving him off and shutting the door quickly. He uncovered the lid to the tray, setting it down on the desk. Inside were some steaming meat pies, a pork shank, and a slice of soft flavored bread.

He ate quietly, not bothering to look back over at the bed. His wife was either seething or sleeping and he didn't care either way. After downing half the flagon and most of the food he set it aside, covering the tray. He had realized, as he was eating, that the flame within the hearth was slowly dying. He decided it was a better idea to refill it before crawling into the warm and soft bed; his young wife would not be pleased with a cold room upon awakening. After stuffing the fireplace he walked back over to the bed where Gisla was laying. She was on the far side of the bed, laying with her back facing him, her body coiled close as her shoulders rose and fell. She must have been sleeping. Rollo lifted the covers quickly, sliding in as quietly as possible, before covering himself and resting on the pillows. He did not feel Gisla move so he just lay there, watching the burning fire spark and crackle anew.

He wasn't tired, his eyes scanning the elaborate room. He still wasn't sure what to make of it. He'd been here only a few weeks, long enough to inform the Franks, kill the traitors among his own forces, and marry his new wife. It wasn't long at all and yet he felt lazier than ever. He couldn't just go train with his new Frankish soldiers, get into the dirt and mud, and enjoy a good fight. No, as a nobleman he couldn't do anything like that. He had to learn the language, the geography, the numbers, and the social structure within the kingdom. He needed to learn all of the things that he just didn't care about. He wasn't stupid, and he wasn't feeble, but he didn't take to learning. He was a hands on person and the books and lessons were nothing to him; he learned the language through conversation with people, not books. Perhaps he complained too much but the information he did have was much more valuable.

He knew the basic geography of the great river, traveling down it as an invader and observing it as a nobleman. He knew the highpoints of the river, the dams, and all of the potential blind spots. This was all important in defending the city and the surrounding country. Not only that but he knew their enemy better than anyone. He wasn't humble in thinking that he was the greatest warrior that his brother possessed but he didn't care. No one else had breached the walls and no one had fought alongside Ragnar for as long as he did. He knew his brother but he didn't know his mind. Ragnar had always been a silent thinker and this, Rollo believed, lead to their biggest disagreement.

Suddenly Rollo felt it, looking over toward his sleeping wife. She wasn't sleeping anymore, she couldn't be. Her body was quivering like a fall leaf and her breathing was shallow. Rollo looked over at the fireplace to see the fire wasn't lighting as fast as he'd hoped, the flames still small as it ate away at the newly piled wood. He didn't think and rolled over, reaching out and pulling his young wife close to him, her back firmly against his chest, his arms wrapping around her torso. He could feel her immediately still, her body stiffened against him as he held her there. After a moment she tried to move, distancing herself from him and he adjusted, allowing her some space but still remaining at arm's length. She then rolled over to face him, the dim light from the new fire and the dying candles reflected in her dark brown eyes.

"I'm only allowing this because you let the fire die," she hissed, glaring at him. He just shrugged, a small smile spreading over his face. Her eyes narrowed and she swung her fist at his chest, connecting with a soft thump. "You did it on purpose," she said, her face wrinkling in annoyance. "You devil."

"You were cold," he said, holding her fist to his chest. "I am warm. Fire is filled, will warm soon."

"That doesn't give you the right to put your hands on me," she said, looking away from him, struggling to pull her fist away.

"You are my wife," he said, looking over her face. "Every right."

"I am not your wife," she said, trying to pull away from his hand. She managed to slip from his grip, wiggling away. "You are no Christian."

"I am baptized," he said, a smirk on his face. "I am Christian now." He pulls her closer now, her body flush against his, their faces inches apart. Her cheeks immediately blushed and her eyes became wide but he just chuckled, pressing his forehead to hers. "Christian or not, you are wife. I must take care of you."

"Get off of me," she protested, pushing against him. "You are not worthy. Let go of me you animal." She leaned away, her body thrashing as she attempted to slip from his arms.

"So kind," he said, still wearing a smirk. "Princess is so noble."

"Do not mock me!" she said, wiggling harder in his grasp. He couldn't help but enjoy her struggling, a smile spreading on his face.

"You are fiery," he admitted, his hand wandering down her back, his other touching her face, moving her hair out of her face. "Calm yourself. I will not hurt you."

"You disgust me!" she said, struggling again, putting more effort into wiggling from his grasp. He couldn't help but be entertained as he held her close, her body warming as she struggled against him. He then decided to try something new, his hand going from her back to her hip, his other holding her behind the head. Her eyes went wider, her body stiffening and her fists pressed roughly against his chest. She struggled against him until his hand started sliding up her hip, over the curve of her stomach. She was shocked, her body halting as his hand explored her side.

It was then that he stopped, caressing her side and watching her reaction. He could tell she'd never been touched by a man and the gentle caress of his rough fingertips over her thin linen gown almost paralyzed her. He watched her face, the sensations flashing behind her eyes as he explored her hip and side. He could see the innocent curiosity and pleasure that was hidden behind her eyes and he enjoyed that look. He wanted the chance to break her from that mold, to corrupt her in the best of ways.

"Stop," she said, her voice cracking. "Please stop."

"You like it," he said, his eyes watching hers. "You have never been touched and are curious. No shame in that."

"It is sinful!" she protested, pushing against him to pull away, her body moving as far away from his as possible.

"Why?" Rollo asked, his eyes widening. "We are married."

"No, not truly. You're no Christian," she said, keeping her distance, his arm still firmly on her hip. "Please, let go of me."

"You're wrong," he said, his hands going to her wrists. "I'm baptized, I attend mass, I learn to read Bible… how so?"

"You are still a pagan at heart," she hissed, her eyes drifting from tattoo to tattoo, wiggling her wrists in his grasp. "You do not believe in Jesus Christ."

"But I do," he assured, nodding his head.

"Lying is a sin as well," she said, looking away from him. "God knows if you are lying. You cannot hide your true heart from God."

"I believe," he said, his hand gently squeezing her hip. "You do not know me princess. You are not God; you cannot judge."

"How can you, a pagan ignorant of God's teachings and grace, possibly understand or believe in the almighty?" He could see the doubt in her eyes, the horror on her face. He could tell that she never meant to discuss such important matters with her barbarian husband.

"I do not know," he said, looking over her face. "How do you believe?"

"I was born a Christian Princess, of the blood of Charlemagne," she said, her voice confident again, as if something that taken hold inside of her that had swelled her bravery. "I will always believe in the one true God." She pulled violently against his grasp, his eyes watching her in awe.

"But not me?" he finally asked, his eyebrow raising. "You are a believer but I am not? Why only you?"

Gisla couldn't say anything now, her voice caught between her hypocrisy and will to stay as distant from her new husband as possible. Rollo just watched the expression on her face turn from uncertainty to guilt in a matter of seconds. She then sighed, looking up at him.  
"I am wrong," she admitted, her voice soft. He could see the wrinkle in her brow as she said it, her mind turning. "You could be a believer. Anyone, blessed or damned, can be forgiven and become a good Christian. That is the lesson that Jesus Christ has taught us all." She then looked down, her eyes scanning his bare chest, the tattoos a sharp contrast to his pale skin. She didn't bother looking up at Rollo again, even when his arms moved around her hips, pulling her flush against him again. She didn't make a sound or move as he held her there but he could tell she was seething, undoubtedly annoyed with his prying questions and the unwanted closeness. Then he felt it, her body was relaxed, held against him in a cocoon of warmth as the silence surrounded them, nothing but their breathing to break it.

Rollo couldn't explain the immense sense of satisfaction as his young wife rested her fists against his chest, laying there quietly. He could tell she was still tense, unwilling to become closer with him just yet, but he would take this small consolation. Perhaps, in the heat of passion, he could show her how much he cared for her well-being. He wasn't in love with her; that was a different sensation all together. However, he feared that he could fall in love with this willful, but weak, wife. Her innocence, and bravery, were a shocking and arousing combination that made Rollo try harder than he had ever tried before.

Siggy's face popped into his head and he immediately cringed, the thought of her leaving this world in the way that she did was more painful than he wanted to admit. She was the first woman to choose him, to make him feel like he mattered. Even as a child, and a warrior, Ragnar had always eclipsed him. In love it was no different; he knew Lagertha could never have loved him and he regretted his desire for her but Siggy's attentions, her certainty in his greatness, gave him more confidence than he wanted to admit.

Of course, he knew her status and situation at the time. She was desperate for companionship, someone to shield her and her daughter from those who believed them a threat to Ragnar's Earldom. The fact that she choose the new Earl's brother was not a coincidence. But he knew, over time, that she truly grew to love him and all of his flaws. The only woman who could handle his intensity and not be afraid; she was so noble and strong. Rollo could feel the pain welling in his chest, the regret of leaving her as he did. He knew he would never be forgiven for that. Then he felt it, Gisla's palm spread out over his chest, just over his heart. He wasn't sure how to react, or how to respond, and just looked down at her curious gaze.

"Your heart," she said, looking at his chest. "It is so loud."

"I am sorry wife," he said, looking away from her. "Thoughts of my past trouble my mind."

"I see," she said, still staring at his chest. He just nodded, wrapping his arm tighter around her hip, pressing her soft curves against his chest. After a few moments he felt her palm leave his chest, her fingertips gently grazing his skin. He watched her soft fingers trace the tattoos on his chest, her interest evident behind her brown orbs. Rollo couldn't help but wonder if all he really needed was to be forceful with her. After feeling her fingers trace over his skin lightly, the sensation more exciting than he had expected, he felt his lower stomach tighten. He knew his arousal would frighten her so he loosened his grip on her and edged away slightly. She immediately stopped when he did so, her shame evident in her blushing cheeks. "Sorry," she managed to whisper, dropping her hand into her other, netting her fingers together in prayer against his chest.

."It isn't you," he assured, his arm lazily resting on her hip. He then smiled, his other hand coming up to push her hair back over her ear. "My past is not good but do not worry princess. My future is here in Paris."

She nodded now, still not looking at him. He must have ruined the moment with his own thoughts, the touch of her hand sorely missed on his heated skin. He had to control himself, his mind wandering to how she would react to his attention. He knew she would not be interested, that her pride and honor would not allow herself to be given, or taken, in such a brash way. He softly sighed now, looking down at Gisla. Her eyes were already on his face, going wide when he looked down at her, as if she was ashamed to look at him. She immediately stared at his chest, pretending to have not been caught.

He just smiled, deciding that for now, he could just get a small glimpse of the kind woman under the guise of this ruthless and brave princess. If tonight had proved anything, it was that she wasn't all pride. She could admit when she was wrong and this was good enough for him. At least he knew his wife was more than shallow and mindless. He slowly settled into the pillows now, allowing himself to relax as his wife's fist slowly unfolded on his chest, resting comfortably under her cheek. He hadn't noticed that she had moved closer to him, her warm breath caressing his chest gently. He could get used to this side of his wife; somehow he felt that now he needed to protect her. It wasn't explainable, almost primal like the decision to end another man's life. He didn't know if he liked this sensation but he knew it was uncontrollable. The problem was that he just wasn't sure what he was protecting her from.

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 **So? What do you think? PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE leave a review. If it was good, bad, great, or just plain crap... review! Thanks everyone. I'd love to know if this would work as multiple chapters!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Greetings readers! So many of you took the time to review so I have decided to try it. I am not sure how many chapters I am doing but I know it will be a minimum of five. Here is the newest one! Ready for some ghostly goodness? Well, here it is. I appreciate your reviews so much so if you really enjoy, or even hate, this new chapter please leave one at the bottom! Again, your readership is MUCH appreciated. :D**

 **DISCLAIMER: VIKINGS IS OWNED MY HISTORY CHANNEL. I OWN NOTHING BUT THE ORIGINAL STORY CONCEPT.**

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It had been a few days since Rollo's cozy encounter with his wife and he found her more distant than ever. She only saw him in church, with her father, or in their bedchamber, snuggled on the bench near the hearth. Every night he had chosen to ignore her, to go to sleep without complaint or inquiry. But, unfortunately, when they were together in those few times, usually in public, she was still scornful, angry. It was bewildering to him and as the days rolled on, into the Christmas season, her attitude became more distant, sour. He wasn't sure what to do. After a couple of weeks he had finally cracked, his patience breaking and his disappointment overwhelming.

"Gisla," he said, after shutting the chamber door, his voice still soft. "We need to speak."

She didn't respond, her eyes watching the fire as she sat, swaddled in furs and linen. He walked toward her now, slowly but purposefully. She looked up at him as he approached, her eyes blank, and the flames eclipsing any emotion within them. When he came up to the bench she looked up, craning her neck to make eye contact.

"About what?" she finally responded, her voice flat and uninterested.

"Why are you so angry at me?" he asked, his question as direct as it could be. "Are you still angry about my attentions the other night?"

Gisla just stared at him, her eyes searching his face lazily. He couldn't tell if she was truly indifferent or putting on an act as she did so often. This irritated him and he immediately moved around the bench, sitting next to her, his elbows on his knees, his body leaned toward her to better see her face. She was a little started by this, her eyes going slightly wide before looking back at the fire. Rollo couldn't help but feel frustrated, his hand reaching out to touch her but instead it was slapped away, her eyes narrowing on him dangerously.

"Do not touch me," she said, watching him. "You seduced me, used sweet words to corrupt me. Know this _husband_ … it will never happen again."

"Why do you fight this so much?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. "I have not forced you to do anything. I only touch when I am allowed. Why do you treat me in such a way?"

"You do not understand pagan," she grumbled, staring at the fire. "There is something wrong with our marriage, something that God will never support and I will not allow myself to be drug into more sinful acts with you."

"You are wrong princess," Rollo said, standing up. He was done being patient with her, done being kind. If force could move her, than he would use it. If there was one thing that he was pleased with, it was the extra lessons he had been taking with the monks and priests that frequented the royal palace. "You speak of God and our marriage yet you are the one who is displeasing God. You, who refuse to comply with your father and husband's wishes, are sinning. You, who though you are married to a baptized Christian, still scorn and pout about your situation instead of accepting fate as it is. So if anyone is displeasing God it is you." By the end of his argument his voice had risen to a steady and forceful tone, his eyes watching her face as he spoke.

At first she was angry, her eyes ablaze with derision but as he spoke he could see the reality set in, her heartache and guilt evident on her face. Rollo couldn't help but be annoyed with her hypocrisy, the unfortunate trait that all Frankish monarchs seemed to possess. He shook his head now, standing up and walking toward the chamber doors. He didn't want to deal with his wife tonight and he thought it more productive to raid the kitchens for food or kitchen maids. At least in the kitchen he could sate his hunger in one form or another.

He quickly left the room, shutting the doors quietly behind him. The guard that was standing watch outside their door simply bowed to Rollo. He nodded to him, motioning for him to come near and the guard complied, watching Rollo with frightful curiosity. "I'm going to the kitchens, keep a close watch. If anything happens, send someone to find me."

"Yes my lord," was all the guard said, taking up his post right outside the door. Rollo nodded in appreciation and then took off down the dark and cool corridor, his boots thumping along the way. The candelabras were dim, the faint light creating ghostly shadows on the high walls as he passed by. As he reached the servant's stairwell that lead from the second floor to the kitchens he heard a noise, a soft scratching. He couldn't help but be curious, the noise prickling in his ears as he descended the flight of stairs to the first level where the scratching was louder. Instead of heading down another flight, into the lower level and servants quarters, he turned off the stairwell and down the wide hall. There were dim candles burning low on the walls and the doors were few. Rollo had never explored this corridor, always ending up on the other end of the hall, near the bishop's chambers.

This part of the palace was almost unknown to Rollo and the further he strode down the hall, the louder the scratching became. Surely someone else had heard this by now though Rollo couldn't be sure what was causing it. As he approached a cracked door the noise became almost deafening, the scratching filling his ears as he pried the door open. When he did the scratching became quieter, fading out completely. He couldn't believe his ears, his eyes searching the dim room. It was barely lit, the moon reflecting off the fresh snow outside the high windows the only thing illuminating the room other than a single candle on a writing desk. Rollo, he realized, had stumbled into a monk's workshop, the pages laying neatly on work benches amongst wells of ink and colorful pigments.

He looked around the large room, hoping to spot a monk hard at work but he saw nothing. No sign of anyone else other than the dimming candle. The room, however, was quite elegant for a monk's workshop. The high walls were molded in marble, the windows framed by columns that rose into the vaulted ceiling but were adorned with detailed wood carvings of angels and soft velvet curtains. The room also had several other writing desk in it, the wooden benches lined up in neat rows. Even the bookshelves that adorned the walls of the room were organized neatly, the different texts and scrolls stacked carefully. Rollo couldn't help but impressed by all this. Though there was no evident wealth around, no great golden candelabras or symbols engrained in jewels, he still understood the value of the room itself.

He couldn't help but stare at the drawings on the desk now, the fine colors and depictions of plant life and biblical figures reflected in the dim light. It was something he wasn't sure he understood, the markings on the page still mostly foreign to him. Though he had taken to learning Frankish, he still wasn't proficient enough to read the Latin etched onto the pages. It was then that he felt it, someone watching him and he immediately turned around, his muscles tight and ready to confront whoever the intruder was. He almost fell to the ground when the face was revealed, the pale moonlight whitewashing the face of the young monk; Athelstan.

Rollo blinked, rubbed his eyes, and then looked about as if there was some sort of trick. The monk was dead, buried somewhere on a hilltop near Kattegat. How was he now alive, observing Rollo, in Paris? Rollo nearly jumped when the monk came striding toward him, a soft smile on his face. "Hello Rollo," he said, his voice soft but somehow magnanimous. Rollo couldn't help but take a step back, his eyes narrowed. The young monk was wearing a white tunic and plain black breeches, his hair much like he remembered, curly and long.

"Athelstan?" he managed to ask, his eyes scanning the young monk's body. "You are dead. I saw the body."

"I am," he said with a nod, his eyes roaming over Rollo's face before landing on the pages Rollo was admiring. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

"How are you here?" he asked, moving toward the monk. "If you are dead, how are you here, speaking to me?"

"Many things in the world go unexplained Rollo," Athelstan insisted, moving closer to the weary man.

"What do you want from me?" Rollo asked, watching Athelstan move toward the writing desk. "I heard a noise; scratching. Was that you?"

"I needed to get your attention," Athelstan admitted, watching the flame flicker in the gusts from the leaky windows. "What better way than to scratch away at parchment?"

"You were calling to me?" Rollo asked, his eyes going wide. "Why are you calling to me from beyond the grave? Surely Ragnar would appreciate your calls more than I."

"Ragnar needs no guidance," Athelstan smiled. "His future is decided. Yours, however, has just begun."

Rollo just stared for a moment, unsure what the ghostly monk meant by that. His fate was to marry the princess. He had already done that, became a great man in the process; what more could be in store for the wayward warrior?

"You doubt the words of a dead man, Rollo?" Athelstan asked, a smile spreading across his face.

"But Ragnar," Rollo insisted, moving toward the monk. "He is sick, sick with grief and disease. Surely you could ease his mind and reveal yourself to him."

"You are more than you seem," Athelstan said, reaching out toward Rollo. His hand found Rollo's shoulder, the ghostly chill that was expected entirely inaccurate. His touch was warm, almost relieving. "Even now, standing against your brother, you fight to truly hate him."

"What could you need from me? Did your God send you?"

"I have come because of a dire need," Athelstan said, looking over Rollo's face. "I am here to help you Rollo. Will you accept my help?"

Rollo couldn't help but stare in amazement, unsure what to say to the spirit. Surely this was all some sort of insomnia induced hallucination. As if he was reading Rollo's mind, Athelstan chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Come now Rollo, you were never so hesitant. What do you say?"

It was as if the world went mad, the hallucination taking its toll. Rollo just nodded, putting his own hand on Athelstan's shoulder. "I don't know if your real and I don't understand why you appeared but I guess if God is responsible, then it must be for a good reason."

"Do you believe in God, Rollo?" Athelstan asked, his voice echoing in the darkened room. Rollo could feel a heaviness in the air now, Athelstan's curious eyes searching his very soul. He wasn't sure what to say, or how to respond. He couldn't deny the Monk's appearance and he couldn't deny the possibility that Jesus Christ could have been the son of God. Rollo could not say if it were true or false but he found Athelstan's question to be a complicated one either way.

"I am just human," he finally answered. "God said I am flawed so my answer will not be absolute."

The smile that spread across Athelstan's face illuminated the entire room. To Rollo it seemed too pure, too good, and he couldn't help but smile back at the grinning monk. Athelstan simply squeezed his shoulder and nodded, looking back at the writing desk. "I am sure you are skeptical. Most are," he commented. "But like I was blind, so are you. I will help you to see the light my friend."

Rollo just nodded, unsure how such a thing was possible. He followed Athelstan's gaze to the writing desk to see the stylus was moving over the page on its own, leaving tasteful markings upon the page. Rollo watched in awe as the pen moved, Athelstan watching it as well as the pen moved to the edge of the page, finishing the line with an elegant symbol. Athelstan squeezed his shoulder one last time, nodding at him.

"You should go back to your rooms," Athelstan suggested, looking out the window now. "Your wife is more agreeable now."

Rollo's eyes couldn't help but widen at the mention of his wife. He hadn't mentioned her once; Rollo wondered if he could really be seeing Athelstan. However, he just nodded, turning to leave the room. Surely a good night's sleep would clear his head of this odd dream. Rollo made his way back out into the corridor, his eyes scanning it for guards. He didn't need them reporting that he was talking to himself. He looked back into the room, expecting to see Athelstan pining over the unfinished pages but he was gone. He wasn't sure what to think of that, shaking his head at the silly illusion. He was sure he was both hungry, tired, and slightly pent up. He hadn't had a good fight in a while and he hadn't had a woman in months. This, he was sure, lead to his hallucination. He quickly moved back down the hall toward the staircase again, descending into the servant's quarters and toward the kitchen.

The halls down here were cramped and small and even this late there was a buzzing heard from the kitchens. Rollo entered the kitchens, swinging the door open before him, to find a couple older women, a steward, and a couple of kitchen wenches. They immediately bowed when they saw him, Rollo walking right past them to rummage through the breads set on the baking rack. He found a couple of meat pies and a sweet bread, piling them in his arms and turning to leave. One of the old women offered him some wine, insisting he try it and he did, sipping some of it before downing the whole cup. He stuffed one of the meat pies into his mouth, motioning for more wine. The older woman complied, looking at her companion with curiosity. He noticed the steward watching him warily but the two young kitchen wenches were eying him lustfully, their eyes scanning him as they worked, folding pastry dough.

He just grinned at them, taking the refilled cup from the older woman and drinking it as he shoved the last meat pie in his mouth. He chewed it thankfully, swallowing quickly before downing the wine again and setting the cup down. He bowed to the group, picking pieces off of the sweet bread as he left the kitchen. He was half way up the stairs, moving toward the first floor corridor, when he heard a set of footfalls behind him. He immediately turned, looking down the darkened stairs for the stalker, surprised to see one of the wenches following him, her eyes immediately going wide when she spotted him watching her. He looked her over, unable to get a good look downstairs. She was supple, clean, but awkward. She was no natural beauty but pretty nonetheless. When she got closer she bowed, looking down at the floor.

"I'm sorry milord," she said, her eyes not raising. "I was hoping you would answer a question for me." Rollo's eyebrow raised, watching her closely. He then nodded, her eyes growing wider when he did. She then smiled a lopsided smile with crooked teeth. "Are pagans' devils of the flesh?"

He looked at her dumbfounded, his eyes scanning her face before shrugging, unsure what exactly she meant. She then giggled, a squeal of a giggle, and then covered her face, her cheeks heating with embarrassment. Rollo couldn't think of a better opportunity so he smirked, taking a few steps down the stairs toward her. When he did her body went stiff, a coy smile spreading across her lips. "Would you like to show me, milord?"

He was rough, and quick, his hands finding her hips and his arms immediately encasing her, lifting her off her small feet. She weighed much less than he anticipated, her eyes alight with excitement as she looked at the barbaric man in front of her. He lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he did so, grinding her hips against his in a clumsy manner. He just smirked, spreading his palms over her buttocks and pulling her flush against him. This aroused her greatly, her center instantly heating as he ground against her roughly, enjoying the enthusiastic moans and sighs the girl was giving him.

It was over before Rollo knew it, the girl's skirts hiked and her pleasured moans vibrating in his ear. She was soft, warm, and completely overtaken by him. At one point he knows he had to cover her mouth because if they were heard, there would be no explaining. The dim moonlight in the corridor was all he needed, thrusting home in only minutes. The girl was giddy when they had finished, her arms holding his shoulders loosely. He let her down, watching her adjust before she bowed, a smirk on her lips. "You are truly devils," she said, her cheeks blushing. "Good night milord."

He only nodded, turning from her as she left, hiking up the flight of stairs toward the second floor. He couldn't help but glance down the hall that he had previously met Athelstan in, noting that the candles in it had been relit, as well as those leading to his chamber. Rollo just shrugged it off, walking up the stairs and into the second floor corridor. It was still a bit drafty but he could see the guard still standing, ever vigilant, outside his bedchamber. As he approached the guard moved, bowing. Rollo nodded back and opened the chamber doors, expecting to see a dim fire and his sleeping wife nestled on the bench. What he found was a bit different, his eyes widening as he saw that the fire had been set ablaze again, the gold light revealing the dark corners of the room.

What he then noticed was that his wife was sitting on their bed, her bible in hand, her back rested against his pillow. She looked up at him lazily, placing the silky ribbon as a bookmark, before closing her Bible. Rollo simply bowed to her, unsure what to say. It was Gisla who stood up, set her book on the side table, and curtsied politely. "Husband," she said softly, her eyes averted now. "I should apologize."

Rollo wasn't sure what he was hearing, shaking his head in disbelief. "No," he said, holding up his hand. Was this the topper to his crazy hallucinations? "Sleep," he insisted, nodding at the bed.

"Please," she said, moving toward him, her eyes finding his. He was almost shocked with how troubled they were. "Let me apologize."

"You do not need to," he responded, his eyes feeling heavy. His exertions had taken their toll and all he wanted was to sink into the warm feather bed. "We are both in dangerous positions. I let my anger get the best of me."

"As did I," she insisted, moving even closer, craning her head to see his face. She looked particularly stunning to him right now. Her long brown hair was hanging over her shoulders and back as she looked at him, her round and delicate face taught with worry. Her almond brown eyes were alight with terror and sadness, the first he's ever seen those volatile orbs in such a state. It wasn't enough that she had such beautiful features but her body was also elegantly beautiful. Her silhouette was slim but tall, toned in a way. She had soft milky skin and delicate movements and the closer she got, the more he wanted to reach out and stop her. A sudden wave of guilt washed over him. He should have went back to his chamber like Athelstan had suggested. Rollo's eyes were immediately drawn to her clasped hands, a silent prayer on her lips. He immediately grasped her shoulders, stopping her from getting closer.

"Gisla," he said, his eyes averted from her face. "No need. I forgive you. You are my wife."

He could see her confusion out of the corner of his eye, her hands coming up to touch his arm. The touch was soft, warm, and completely hesitant. He couldn't help but look down at her now, his green orbs meeting hers. She just smiled now, a soft and genuine smile that he had never seen before. Her face almost glowed with beauty and bravery, his arms encasing her to his chest. She just placed her palms on his chest, allowing him to hug her tightly. She stood there a minute before pulling back, looking into his eyes.

"Rollo, husband," she said, her voice softer than usual, more timid. "Please, though I have not given you such courtesy, I must ask a favor. Will you give me time? Time to learn?" His eyebrows shot up, unsure what she was asking of him. She noticed and smiled again. "Will you give me time to learn about you, to learn to love you?"

"Princess does not need to love me," he said, taking her hand gently. "You cannot decide this."

"I want to," she said, squeezing his fingers. "After your outburst earlier, I realized that I was being cruel and unfair. I was also being stubborn, sinful, because I disobeyed my God. If we are married it is God's will and I am not able to question it."

Rollo just wasn't sure what to say to this, his hand squeezing hers gently. He then nodded, moving toward the bed. "I will give you time," he said, removing his boots. "But tonight we must sleep." He then removed his silver chain, placing it on the table before lifting his shirt over his head. Gisla immediately blushed and looked away, standing there a moment before moving toward the bench. Rollo's hand shot out before he realized it, his hand gently encasing her wrist. She turned to him now, her eyes wide.

"Sleep in bed with me," insisted, looking over her face. She hesitated a moment before nodding in agreement, following him toward their large bed, their hands clasped. When she was about to let go of his hand to walk around the bed he turned, lifting her off her feet in one quick movement, placing her gingerly on the bed. He then removed her slippers, setting them on the floor and moving over her, crawling to the other side of the bed. She looked confused as he did so, his spot usually on that side. He lifted the covers over her legs and stomach, sliding under them with her until they were both encased, shoulder to toe. It was then that she finally understood. Rollo had rolled over, wrapping her in his arms against his chest, her back to his. He could tell she felt warmer, her body relaxing as he held her.

He could feel her chest rising and falling, her soft breaths gently caressing his arm as he pulled her flush against him. He could see her blush again, even under the warm covers. He couldn't help but grin as she did, adjusting so that she was cradled against his torso. He wanted her to be warm, to sleep easily. She was always cold and his side of the bed just happened to be closer to the hearth. After a moment of adjustment he rested his head on the soft pillows, the scent of her hair enveloping him. It smelled of vanilla, soft and sweet vanilla and he wanted more than anything to taste her. He had to restrain himself now. He couldn't do that to her, he couldn't take her and he wouldn't dishonor her. If she needed time, then he could give it to her. He just didn't know how much time he had left. After hallucinating that his brother's monk friend had visited him from beyond the grave, he felt exhausted and completely fearful. Was he going crazy or was that really Athelstan?

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 **NAUGHTY...bad bad Rollo. Or... Good Rollo? Who knows! We shall see how this plays out. :D Hope you enjoyed the story. Please, any comments at all are welcome. Please please please review! REVIEW! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello readers! Here is chapter three! Needed to get it done before the end of the week. Wanted to release before the episode and before I have my birthday weekend. :D YES! Tis my BIRTHDAY weekend! Anyway, if you'd all be so kind and review I'd much appreciate it. Be a great present. Thanks again to all my readers. Your views are appreciated but your reviews are treasured!**

 **DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN VIKINGS OR ANY RELATED MERCH/CONCEPTS. IT BELONGS TO HISTORY CHANNEL. I ONLY OWN THE ORIGINAL PLOT.**

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"Good morning Count," the young noble said, bowing to Rollo. Rollo nodded, looking about the room. There were a few people in chairs surrounding a large table, the men looking noble and finely groomed. Their rich jewels and clothing suggested that they were of equal status as Rollo and as he approached the table, many of them stood and bowed. When he took his seat amongst them they all sat, waiting for something to happen. It was Count Odo, who came in last, that spoke first.

"Gentlemen," he urged sitting down amongst them. "We are here to discuss plans for the defenses of Paris. We also have to remember that it isn't only Paris, but the whole empire of Frankia that is at stake here. We are at war gentlemen and we need to use every advantage."

"Then we need to raise an army!" an older man said, his beard long and white. It was adorned with iron and gold bangles.

"Count Christoph is right," another man said, his beard trimmed, thin black. "We need a standing army ready for the future invasion."

"My lords," Count Odo said, raising his hand. "We have developed several countermeasures to defend against invasion. Along with the dams along the river, we have also began construction on guard towers." He stood up, rolling out a map of the river's length, from Rollo's promised lands in the north along the sea to the winding bends of Frankia and Paris. "Here," he said, pointing to parallel markers along the river's length, at least a half a dozen. "These are the guard towers, positioned upon the banks and between them, large chain links to stop the Northman's advance inland."

The table remained quiet, their eyes scanning the map. Odo then nodded at Rollo and Rollo stood, looking around the table at the curious and startled faces. "I have ordered the construction of several new longboats and am seeking volunteers for a standing army to fight against the Northmen," he recited, nodding at Count Odo. "We will be much better prepared for their attempt."

"As The Count of Rouen has said," Count Odo spoke up, looking around at the curious but distant faces. "We are looking for volunteers. If you are willing to dedicate some troops than we will be happy to accept. They will undergo training under The Count's personal supervision."

"You would teach them the style of the Northmen?" the thin bearded man asked, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. He was eyeing Rollo curiously and the others weren't sure what to make of the situation.

"I will teach our troops to defend against them," Rollo said, looking between them. "They do not know this yet. It is an advantage."

"How do you propose to do this?" Count Cristoph asked, his eyes looking between Odo and Rollo. "Surely it will cost money and supplies to fuel an army to fight these devils."

"Indeed, and we have options," Count Odo assured. "We have the option of raising taxes, which is unpopular, or take donations from our great Lords of Frankia." Count Odo set a sack of coins on the table, looking at Rollo. "Together we have donated more than one ton of grain, livestock, and gold to the King's army. This meeting, gentlemen, is to determine the state of our armies. The state of affairs depends on you now."

Count Odo nodded to Rollo and they both sat down, the gaze of the entire table downcast. Rollo didn't understand and he immediately felt annoyed. Didn't these fools realize what Ragnar's return would mean for this city, the countryside? It wasn't only that but his own life was in the balance. He didn't doubt that the Franks would ransom him for mercy.

"What would prevent you from turning the king's army on us when the Northmen retreat?" another man asked. He'd been silent the whole time, his thoughtful gaze falling on Odo. He had deep brown eyes and a square jaw. "I know this man is smart and a great warrior so I have little doubt in his motivations," he commented, pointing at Rollo. "Christian or not, he stands to gain much more on our side. What, Count Odo, do you stand to gain from this predicament?"

"Nothing but the satisfaction of saving Paris and its Christian citizens," Count Odo assured, shaking his head. "Petty squabbles will not save us from this menace. Do you honestly believe I would gain anything by turning the army against you? Turning your own men against their lords?"

"You could turn them against the King himself for all we know," the man replied. "But your suspicious behavior and power-hungry maneuvers have made the council lose faith in your ability to maintain an honorable agenda."

"I would not be in command of the army," Odo protested. "On the contrary, that is the Count of Rouen's duty." He then shrugged. "I am merely the King's humble servant but if you truly protest the idea of a standing army than perhaps we should consider evacuating Paris and the surrounding regions all together, when the snows thaw. It would be difficult but with the right amount of planning…"

"Surely not," Rollo protested. "We must not lose." The conviction in his voice must have startled the others because they were all mesmerized by his insistence. "They will not give up. Ragnar is looking for farmable land, a future for his people. We cannot let them gain a foothold."

"See," Count Odo assured. "Even the new Count understands the urgency of the situation."

There was silence within the room now, quiet contemplation humming in the air as Rollo slowly sat back down, unsure what to do. There was nothing more he could say to get them to agree, nothing more he could do shy of threaten them. It wasn't as if he had the political advantages they did. Count Cristoph stood now, nodding to the group, his eyes stern.

"I will support the Count of Rouen," he said, nodding at Rollo. "I will donate what grain, livestock, and soldiers I can spare but I insist that we agree upon a clause that explicitly states the duration of the armies standing."

The room was quiet a moment and then Count Odo spoke, his voice steady. "I agree. Let us amend," he began, waving at the steward with the inkwell and parchment. "That the army shall not stand more than six months after the formal retreat of the Northmen."

"Formal?" the man the final man protested, his blue eyes narrowing. "That could never happen. Formal, I believe, is not their custom."

"Than six months after their evacuation from the Seine?" Odo suggested, his eyes searching the room. "Specific enough?"

"Fair," the man with the square jaw and brown eyes. "We shall expect the amounts of supplies reflected in population and resources owned."

"Fair," Odo replied. "Shall I draw up the numbers and charter for your viewing at a later date?"

"Indeed," Cristoph nodded, turning from the table. "Good day gentlemen. We are packing for the long journey back down river. May God watch over you and yours." The others all stood and followed suit, one by one bidding farewell to Odo and Rollo, discussing amongst themselves the journey to their respective homes. After the last of them left, Count Odo stood, smiling down at Rollo.

"It seems that you have gained some friends at court Count," he drawled. "Good."

"Good," Rollo repeated, nodding. "They must see that fighting Ragnar and his warriors is a group effort."

"Indeed, as is the defenses of Paris," he commented. He turned toward the table with the wine and cups, offering one to Rollo. He accepted and after a few moments of sipping the flavorful wine, Odo turned back to him, a serious look in his eyes. "I have to admit," he confessed. "You are more than I expected and far more valuable than I had estimated."

"Many make that mistake," Rollo replied, a grin on his face. "But what should I do about that?" He leaned back in his chair now, downing the rest of the drink. "So," he lulled. "What do you truly need of me?"

"A few small things that should be of little consequence to you," Odo admitted. "You must train the troops but I have little doubt in your capabilities here. However, I also need you to command their loyalty. You will come to learn, as I did, that this king is weak, open to suggestion, and prone to doubt. We, the two most powerful men in all of Frankia, must work together to achieve peace and stability. After all…" he looked about. "Both our lives depend on this king and his grace. Your own son will inherit such a burden."

Rollo couldn't help but be curious about Odo's honesty. His words, like a clean sword, were slick and distracting. How could he truly know Odo's motivations? He then shrugged, agreeing that having more power is better than having less. "Very well," he admitted. "I am with you, Count Odo."

"Perfect, Rollo," he said, raising his cup. Rollo did the same, bowing to the count before downing the rest of his wine. "However, if I may be so bold, there is one other thing that must be done."

Rollo was curious, watching the Count closely. He didn't know how to feel about this man, the way he spoke was almost as smooth as he looked. It was also a problem for him to be working with this man because his own wife loathed Odo.

"You see," he began. "In Christianity, a marriage is not valid until a man and woman lie together. I know this is overstepping my bounds but I have to ask, have you even tried?"

"I have not pushed her," he said, remembering her words from last night. "We have time."

"Indeed," Odo replied, pouring some more wine. "But you do understand that at any time she can ask for a divorce because the marriage was never consummated. This puts you, and your future here in Frankia, at risk."

"In time," Rollo insisted, standing now. "It will happen."

"Soon I hope," Odo commented, setting the cup down. "I shall draw up the charter and have you oversee it. Please seek me out if you need anything, Count Rollo." With that he turned, leaving the room with a slight spring in his step. Rollo just shrugged it off, moving toward the doors as well. He had a long day ahead and the more he thought about it, the greater the task became.

He had to attend mass, inspect the armory as well as the ramparts along the walls, and he had to attend the Emperor for dinner with his daughter. All before he has the unpleasant duty of speaking to his wife about Count Odo's plans. The day was shaping up to be a long and tedious one that he was hoping ended in, at the very least, a hallucination-free night. He wasn't even sure if last night truly happened. His wife was gone from his arms before he woke and hadn't seen her all morning. As he left he could see the bustle of castle life, the maids and servants springing about in quick fashion as lords and ladies paraded the halls. Rollo moved through them with ease, their uncertainty about him evident as they moved aside. He enjoyed the ease but at the same time treaded carefully when it came to frightening them. Many of them still believed he was a devil of some sort sent to corrupt them all.

As he made his way toward the chapel, the other lords and ladies migrating in the same general direction, he could see his wife's retinue. She was flanked by a small group of ladies, all with white covers over their heads and bejeweled crosses about their necks. Gisla, however, was dressed in a long purple gown, which in the light looked somewhat blood red. She was also wearing some heavy silver furs and an elegant and thin crown atop her head. As he approached the chattering group of women, Gisla turned, curtsied, and then reached out, taking his forearm gently. He watched her closely as she patted his arm and then turned to her ladies. "That will be all for now, attend mass and then my affairs. I shall join you in my chambers after."

They all bowed and then dispersed, their white covered heads the only thing Rollo could see among the crowd of servants and nobles who were meandering toward the chapel. Rollo looked down at Gisla now, her eyes searching his face and then narrowing.

"What is wrong?" she asked, moving to the side so that they were in their own little alcove, near the windows. She searched his face again, her eyes a mixture of confusion and worry.

"Nothing is wrong," he admitted, touching her hand upon his arm. "But I do have some news that may displease you." He then looked about, nodding toward the chapel doors. "It can wait. God cannot."

"We have time," she insisted. "Father is detained at the moment, and the priest dare not start without him."

"Gisla," he said, looking about. "It is not news to know when going into church. I want you to hear it from me before anyone else but now is not the time."

"Will you tell me after? We can have lunch together and speak."

"We can, yes," he said, nodding in agreement. "But for now, let's be among your people. You give them hope."

"And you will give them safety," Gisla assured. "You and I are the saviors of Paris."

"Such a title," he smirked, glancing over his shoulder at the few lords and ladies passing by. "Surely too much for me."

"Nonsense!" she said, a smirk growing on her face. "We will win the people's love and God's approval."

"Then we shouldn't be late for church," he insisted, putting his hand over hers again. "Come," he said, moving toward the chapel. As they ascended the stairs they could hear the buzz of chatter within the church, the sound echoing down the halls. When they entered the chatter dulled a bit, some eyes on them, others looking about at the sordid reactions. It was when they took their place, at the front of the room closest to the altar that the chatter escalated again. It was a dull roar by the time the Emperor had entered. All went silent, bowing simultaneously. When he approached Gisla and Rollo he smiled, hugging her and then taking Rollo's arm.

"It is good to see my children here, during the Christmas season, to pay homage to God and all of his blessings," the Emperor said, his words echoing in the hall. There was a soft rumble and then some applause, to which the old King smiled, waving. He then turned toward the altar, the bishop standing there in all his finery ready to begin the ceremonies.

The mass was shorter than anticipated, the priest chanting out the words in Latin, accompanied by other clergy and choir members. It was an interesting spectacle, the room almost feeling alive with a pulse of its own. Rollo gazed about, the prayer and chanting adding a divine aura to the room that he just couldn't describe. Then he spotted it, above the altar, pinned to the cross wasn't Christ at all. No, it wasn't the wooden carving of the dying savior but a pale fleshed man with long hair and a familiar smile on his face. Rollo almost yelled out but stopped himself, his body going somewhat stiff as he stood there, awaiting the end of the ceremonies. His eyes never left Athelstan as the priest completed the final rights, dismissing his flock of sheep. It was only when Gisla nudged him that he looked down, surprised to see the Emperor standing in front of him.

"I am sorry," he said, his eyes finding the ground. "I was looking-."

"The image of our savior dying on the cross is a powerful symbol," the Emperor said, a smile on his face. "It is good to be curious and even more so to be devout. I asked you if your Latin lessons were going well."

"They are coming along Emperor," he said, looking back up at the cross. It was wooden again, the face unfamiliar and rough. He couldn't believe his eyes and he quickly looked back at the Emperor. "I am reading, page by page, the Bible."

"Beautiful," the Emperor smiled, looking at his daughter. "And you my devoted girl. Are you helping your husband with his studies? Surely my daughter, as brilliant as she is, could teach anyone the words of our savior?"

"Indeed father," she said, smiling at him. "I am helping him as much as I can. We are very busy people and are so often apart."

"Shall I cancel some dates, or perhaps commissions for you Count?" the king asked, looking at Rollo. "I would not want to deprive my daughter, or her husband, of their marriage."

"I am happy to attend your defenses," Rollo said, shaking his head. "We are happy and grateful for your majesty's charity. We dare not take any more for fear of God's disapproval."

"Eloquently spoken husband," Gisla spoke up, taking her father's hand. "You are such a good father and a generous king. Surely God is smiling down upon us and we are eager to do his works."

"Good!" the king said, looking around Rollo. "Ah! Count Odo, please," he insisted, offering him to come over. The Count appeared now, standing next to Rollo. He smiled, bowing to them, before attending the king.

"Majesty," he said. "How may I help you?"

"Tell me," he insisted. "How are our plans progressing?"

"On schedule," Odo said, looking at Rollo. "We have several plans and several options for defense."

"Yes," Rollo agreed. "Much of which I am overseeing."

"Splendid," he said, the same jolly look on his face. "Then I shall await your council." He nodded to them, turning to leave. They all bowed as he left, Count Odo smiling as they looked about.

"I hope all is well with you," he said, looking at Gisla.

"Wonderful," she said flatly, her eyes meeting his. "And yourself? A new wife perhaps?"

"Not yet," he said, his eyes slightly narrowed. "I should attend the armory. When should I expect you Count Rollo?"

"After lunch," he said, eyeing the count. "I should be there before too long."

"As you will," Odo said, bowing to them both before leaving. Rollo immediately felt Gisla's hand grasping his forearm.

"Does the news you wish to tell me have something to do with these plans?" she whispered, looking up at him. He nodded, motioning for them to leave as well. It didn't take long for them to walk, in silence, back to their chambers. When they reached them a fire was started and a couple of Gisla's maidens were in the room, preparing her wardrobe.

"Leave us," Gisla said. "And tell the steward that we need lunch." They both complied, bowing and leaving the couple in silence. Gisla removed her furs and crown and rollo removed his jacket, setting the bulky warm silks aside. It was Rollo who decided to speak first.

"Let me tell you everything before you speak," he said, looking down at her. She watched his face closely before nodding, moving to sit in one of the plush chairs around the table. He did so as well, sitting across from her. She reached out her hands to him now, taking his fingers in hers.

"I will let you speak," she said. "But I require honesty, as if you were speaking to God himself."

"Agreed," he said, gently squeezing her fingers. "Now, the plans are simple to understand. The other lords on the council, along with Odo and myself, are raising tons of wheat, livestock, and gold in order to equip, feed, and train an army. This army, we agreed this morning, will be led by me. The council did not like the idea of Odo being in charge. Also, because Odo and I had already donated such a large amount of our own wealth, supplies, and troops, the other's had to follow suit or else look bad in front of your father."

"Your Frankish has improved," she interjected, squeezing his hand, her own fingers tracing small circles on his large palm.

"I am glad," he smiled. "But there is more. Also, along the banks of the Seine stretching to the ocean there will be towers with chain links between them to stop the ships from coming up stream. The dams as well as a force of boats we are building will stop them from making it so far inland." He then paused, unsure where to go from here. She noticed and narrowed her eyes at him, her fingers gently parting his to lace them together.

"What? So far the news is wonderful," she said, stroking his thumb with her own.

"Count Odo believes that because we have not laid together, you will seek an annulment and my position here in Paris will be greatly diminished," he said, looking away from her. "He has urged me to consummate and I am becoming suspicious of both his and your motives. Had I known the details of how precarious this was, I would not have been so shocked by his suggestions."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes wide as she squeezed his hand. "Rollo, what are you suspicious of?"

"Your motives," he said, unsure how to make her understand. "You ask me for more time and then the next day I find out that the longer we wait to lay together, the more time you have to arrange for an annulment."

He couldn't help but wonder what she thought of his suggestions, his eyes desperately searching hers for the answer. He could see the fear, hesitation and sadness buried within them. There was no guilt, no shock, and no longer was there the innocence he thought she possessed.

"Was that your plan all along?" he asked, letting go of her hands.

"No, I had thought about it," she said, shaking her head. "I had even started planning on how I could postpone it but then…" her eyes were fearful, almost frantic. He wasn't sure what to make of it. "I am going to sound crazy Rollo," she cried out, tears welling in her eyes. She had gone off, the fear he had seen in her making her frantic and paranoid. He could see the wild look in her eyes as she spoke. "But I saw him, I saw Jesus Christ."

Rollo wasn't sure what to make of this. Was this all his fault? Did his hallucinations make her sick as well? He grasped her hands now, his eyes searching hers for more answers. She was crying now, the tears slowly rolling down her face in warm wet streams. He moved around the table now, reaching out and picking her up in his arms. She was off the ground, he knew, as he held her against him, hugging her tightly. She didn't care, her hands immediately grabbing his shirt, pulling him to her.

"Tell me," he said, moving with her to lay her on the bed. He immediately covered her with his fur blanket, sitting on the edge of the bed to hold her hand. She looked weary now, almost completely drained of energy.

"It was after our fight, when you left last night," she said, looking up at him sadly. "I had gotten angry, cursed you, and then ended up falling asleep in tears. I woke to a man standing by the fire. I was about to jump up, to hit him with the iron prod near the hearth but then he turned toward me. His face was aglow with confidence, his eyes so clear and piercing. I was so afraid until I saw them, the scars on his hands. I was so overcome, so joyful, that everything went black. It was only later, when I awoke to the fire blazing again, making me too hot for my furs, that I remembered what I had seen." She squeezed his hand weakly. "It was him, it was a sign from God. I knew that I needed to comply, to accept God's will and that meant accepting you."

"Gisla," he said, his eyes widening. She had seen Athelstan that night as well, his hands encasing her weaker one. "Please, rest. God is not angry, he will not be vengeful. He sees your love for your people, for him, and protects you. You do not need to force yourself to accept me. We have time."

"No we don't," she said, her lips downturned as she spoke, her eyes dulling by the moment. She looked so tired, her eyelids heavily closing and opening to look at him. "We need to save my people but we also need to save yours. We need to work together to make all of God's people safe and prosperous. Please, Rollo, we need to plan ahead. We need to work at this. No task ever set by God was easy."

"Sleep," he urged, the light in her eyes rekindling with her words. "I understand. I do. We can talk more later. Sleep for now." She nodded, her hand squeezing his desperately. It was then that he saw it. Behind the panic and fear, the hope and the exhaustion, was love. Hidden in the softness of her features, the parting of her lips, and the gentle rise of her chest with every breath. It was there, and Rollo smiled at her now, bringing her hand to his lips. He kissed it gently, his eyes never leaving hers. "Sleep," he insisted again, letting go of her hand. She almost cried out when he did, her hand finding his again.

"So warm," she said, lacing her fingers with his. "Your hands are so warm."

Rollo sat there, for several minutes, watching her face as she slowly fell to sleep. Her parting lips were downturned in utter bliss. She looked so peaceful, her long brown hair loose over the pillows and covers. Her breathing was soft and deep and her hand was warming by the minute. He couldn't help but lose track of time or where he was. He didn't notice the appearance of the servants with food and drink or the appearance of a message. He just sat there, watching, waiting for his young wife to wake again. The first face he wanted her to see was his and he just didn't understand why.

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 **REVIEW FOR MY BIRTHDAY? PLEASE? EVEN IF YOU HATED IT. TWO OR THREE WORDS. DOESN'T MATTER. I'D LOVE IT! THANKS AGAIN! HOPE YOU ENJOYED.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello readers! I am excited to put another chapter out so early. I want to get through these first chapters because eventually, this relationship is going to grow. Once it reaches near perfection, I will introduce the conflict of war, killing, violence, siege, sickness, and everything in between. I want to really get down the adventure bit of this story, of this era in time. So I hope you enjoy it. Also, I will be delving deeper into Athelstan and making him appear more often. :D Hope you enjoy this. I rate it M for citrus. Please REVIEW! I would love some reviews for my birthday.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING VIKINGS RELATED. IT IS ALL THE PROPERTY OF HISTORY CHANNEL. I OWN NOTHING BUT THE ORIGINAL PLOT.**

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"Higher!" Rollo said, watching the group of men pull at the rope. "It needs to stop their bows and not give under the pressure." Rollo was standing, in the snow, watching the builders pile on layers of stone and mortar. Another group was hefting a large thick chain with ropes and pulleys. As the chain slid into place, the loud hammers thundering against metal, he heard a set of hoofs approaching. Coming up the snow covered road was a group of horses, men in dark furs and cloaks upon them. Rollo turned from his crew, signaling for his soldiers to inquire as to who was approaching. He then went over to the large canvas tent, standing under it and sipping on some warm wine.

He watched as the soldiers talked to the men on the horses, waiting until they approached to leave the shelter of the tent. When he did he recognized one of the council members leading the group. He nodded at Rollo, dismounting, and walking toward him. It was the brown haired man with piercing eyes and square jaw. Rollo had come to learn that his name was Count Gerau, of Avignon.

"Count Gerau," he greeted, shaking his hand and leading him toward the drafting table in the tent. "We are off to a good start."

"Glad to hear it," he assured, grabbing the steaming cup from the steward. "I have come to check progress and exchange words, if you're inclined."

"You are more than welcome," Rollo replied, offering him a chair. "Let us warm up and talk." He moved around the tent, untying the straps that held the sides up, lowering them to encase the table in three walls, the third a thinner linen. The stewards were busy grabbing wood and kindling for the brazier within the tent. It ignited quickly, the two nobles sitting themselves at the table. When the steward's finally left Rollo raised his glass, nodding at Gerau. "To Frankia," he said, taking a drink with the other man.

"I am quite pleased with our progress," Gerau began, setting his cup down and removing his gloves. He set them in his lap, leaning back and looking Rollo in the face. "I am also pleased that you have taken command of the army, a delicate task that needs a selfless leader."

"Not so selfless," Rollo admitted, sipping from his cup again. "I have gained much to defend Paris."

"Honesty is also part of being selfless," Gerau admitted. "So tell me, since we are being honest, what do I have to do to get your friendship, Count Rollo? What is it that I could offer to the Emperor's son-in-law to gain his favor?"

"You are very blunt," Rollo said, setting his cup on the table. "Tell me, why should I trust you? Why should I give you my confidence?"

"Why would you give it to Count Odo?" Gerau retorted, his eyes watching Rollo's face. "Surely the only thing you have in common is the desire for your wife."

Rollo's eyes narrowed at this, the light from the brazier illuminating his displeasure. Gerau noticed and only bowed, his eyes meeting Rollo's. "I did not mean to offend," he assured. "I assumed you knew and were taking steps to eliminating such a problem."

"I did not know and I will consider the facts shortly," Rollo replied, picking up his cup again and downing it. "So what is it that you are offering? Why should I trust someone I do not know?"

"I believe we have more in common that you realize," he admitted. "You see, apart from being a Count I am also newly married to royalty. The daughter of the Emperor's brother, princess Ursula, has newly arrived from the lowlands. Along with this I think we both share a certain taste for glory and battle." Gerau refilled his cup, taking a sip. "Tell me, do you hunt often, Count Rollo?"

"I have not learned your customs," Rollo responded. "The way the Northmen hunt is not like in Frankia."

"Perhaps we could hunt together," he suggested, offering to refill Rollo's cup. Rollo nodded, watching him curiously. "I could teach you the formalities and you could get to know me. After all, we are technically family."

"So I see," Rollo admitted, taking a drink of his newly refilled cup. "I would also like to see you fight, Count Gerau. If I am to know my friends, I must face them as foe."

"The words of a true warrior," Gerau admitted. "I shall accept that challenge. The king has yet to throw a tournament celebrating the deliverance of Paris from the hordes of pagans. Perhaps we could, when the snow thaws, arrange a tournament of swordsmanship and bows. Perhaps even wrestling and racing? Would that be acceptable? We could dedicate the tournament to the Emperor and Princess Gisla, for saving Paris."

"I would compete," Rollo assured. "Surely there is no man stronger than I."

"Then we shall have a tournament! Sword and spear, axe and bow, whatever you desire," he nodded. He then grinned. "I knew we had an affinity. I knew we were more alike than you realized."

"Perhaps we are, Count Gerau," Rollo admitted. "I have found the quiet lifestyle of a noble to be boring at times. Some competition and war is what every man desires."

"Than a hunt and a tournament, to life spirits," he smiled. He then chuckled, glancing out at the snows. "Tell me, Count Rollo, how goes the towers?"

"The first two up river, near the city, are completed. Solid stone and chain link. We have seven more to build, this one being the second. They are well on the way to being done and should be completed within a fortnight."

"And the ships?"

"Under construction," Rollo admitted. "I had to spend a lot of time overseeing the boats, the way they were carved and assembled. It took some time but so far we have built a half a dozen boats and expect to complete a dozen more by the beginning of summer."

"Then we are well on the way to a solid defense," he admitted. "And the troops? It has been a couple of weeks since the agreement was reached. The charter was approved and the troops are assembled. How goes the training?"

"Well," Rollo stated. "We have divided the troops into three groups, all rotating on monthly schedules. Archers, fighters, and builders. By rotating we complete the towers faster and the troops get an overall understanding of defense and offense."

"Brilliant," he said, taking a drink of his wine. "Paris is truly lucky to have such a defender."  
"Indeed," he said, taking a drink as well. "Tell me, how are your affairs Count Gerau? Does your new wife like your castle? Is she pleasant?"

"She is a devout Christian woman with the pride of a queen," he admitted, a smirk on his face. "Reminds me of your princess in that respect."

"She is willful," Rollo admitted, a smile on his face. "Perhaps we shall reunite these cousins one day."

"I would be honored," he admitted. "Perhaps when you make your journey to Normandy in the spring you can visit us at Avignon."

"I have never been there, and the countryside looks beautiful," Rollo said, his smile wide. "It is a dream to see much of the Christian world."

"You have much to see," he admitted. "You have seen some of Britain and Saxony but you've not seen Italy or the Lowlands. You haven't been east to see the German lands and the large expanse beyond. It is beautiful to behold their large forests and mountains."

"Then I look forward to the successful defense of Paris," Rollo grinned. "It will give me more time to explore the rest of the world."

"Sounds like a plan, Gerau commented, moving to stand. "I am glad I came to find you Count Rollo." He pulled on his gloves again and drank the rest of his wine. He then smiled. "I would love to contact you sometime in the next few weeks to escort me on a hunt. The King does not enjoy such exhaustions but many of the generals and nobles do."

"I look forward to it," Rollo assured. "Please, contact me with further details."

"Very well Count of Rouen," Gerau said, bowing to him. "I shall speak to you soon." After Gerau left Rollo relaxed, watching as the stewards flooded in to take care of the cups and the canvas walls. When the three were raised again, Rollo stepped out into the cold, the heavy furs wrapped around him. He scanned the towers, one on each bank of the river, parallel to one another. The chain was connected on the far side already, laying across the frozen sections of the river and sinking into the water. The masons were having problems lifting it and Rollo could see their exhaustion. He immediately shed his silver trinkets and his bulky jacket, striding toward the group. They were pulling on the rope with difficulty.

"Keep pulling," he yelled over the wind and grunting. "We almost have it." He grabbed the rope now, standing in front of the group of men as they pulled. Some soldiers joined in and soon the heavy chain was lodged into its place, hammered and wrapped around the wooden wheels that controlled their length. That was their last big task, the roofing and patches to be done on a less windy day. The men were grateful to be done, their cold bodies shuffling toward the road and covered carts. It would take a little while to reach the army outpost and a little longer to reach the city. It was just past the afternoon, the sun slowly falling in the sky.

"Come! Let's gather the tools and head back quickly. The snows seem to be settling on the roads and we cannot travel in the dark," Rollo urged, waving at the soldiers and workers to gather the tools and tents. It only took a few minutes, the braziers being tipped and emptied, gathered together near the levers and pulleys that were too large to move. They also left the large rock piles and bricks near the tower. As soon as the snow had stopped and the wind had ceased they would be back to finish the roof and imperfections.

Their journey back was slow, reaching the army outpost with the barracks as the sun was setting. After leaving most of the tools and men, Rollo pushed on with his guards, the half a dozen of them keeping up on horseback as they made the cold trip back to the city. It took them longer than expected, the roads drifted and covered with blowing snow and ice. When they reached the guardhouse, and stables near the palace, they were greeted by Count Odo and his guards.

"Ah, there you are Count Rollo," he said, nodding. "We haven't seen each other since the council meeting a few weeks ago. How have you been?"

"Good, attending the construction project and training the troops," Rollo admitted, nodding for his guards to finish taking care of his horse. "A very busy man."

"Indeed, shall I call on you sometime to check progress?"

"If you wish," Rollo said with a nod. "I wouldn't mind your advice but everything is going smoothly." He then bowed to Odo. "Pardon my rudeness but I must get back. I am late for an appointment and I have been gone all day."

"Right," Odo said, bowing to him. "Good night Count Rollo."

Rollo nodded and moved past him, up the overhanging hallway toward the palace's side doors. As he approached the guards opened the doors, bowing before shutting them with a creak behind him. He strode through the side courtyard, up the flight of stairs that hugged the tower, and into the first floor corridor. As he did he could feel the slickness of the wet floor, a servant immediately approaching him.

"Count," he bowed timidly. "I have been sent by your wife. She wishes me to tell you to come directly to your chamber."

Rollo only nodded, the servant disappearing down the dark halls. The candles were lit and the hanging chandeliers giving off a golden glow from above. He moved quickly across the foyer and through the entrance hall. The staircase he needed was on the east side of the castle and the noise from the guest chambers, at the top of the main staircase, was music to his ears. Such a large home for so many nobles and church members and it was always full. There was always a party in one room or a meeting in another. Never was there a dull moment and Rollo would never have said that months ago, when he had first married Gisla.

As he made his way up the narrow stairs near the corner, his boots squeaking the whole time, he could hear a guard pacing in the hall. As he came up the stairs the guard stopped and bowed, nodding toward the door. "Your wife is within milord," he commented. "She's been waiting, a little concerned, for a while now."

He could only nod, pushing the chamber doors open with a squeak. When he entered all of the candles were lit, half burned, and the fire was blazing. Gisla was sitting at the desk, her eyes immediately finding his as he closed the door behind him.

"Rollo," she breathed, standing and crossing the room to him. He met her half way and embraced her, looking into her troubled face.

"What is it?" he asked, looking about. "Did something happen?"

"No," she said with a sigh. "I was… well, I was worried. I hadn't seen you all day and the snows were becoming heavier."

"You worry for nothing," he smiled, touching her cheek. "I have been through worse snow storms."

"Good," she said, pulling away with a smile. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I only meant to know how you were."

"Fine," he admitted, shedding his wet furs and musty jacket. He also got rid of his wet boots, stripping down to his wool pants under the wet leather. He then turned to her, a mischievous grin on his lips. "I am a bit cold though."

"The fire burns," she said, nodding toward the hearth. He just nodded, a smile still on his face as he moved toward it, warming first his hands and then is back. Gisla sat back at the desk now, penning something with a quill and ink. After a while Rollo walked over, placing a hand on the desk next to her and leaned over her shoulder.

"What are you writing?" he asked, glancing over the page.

"A letter," she said with a grin. "To my cousin. She has reached out to me. Seems she has married a Frankish noble and is requesting a meeting."

"Count Gerau?" Rollo asked, his eyebrow raising.

"Yes," Gisla said, a bit surprised. "How did you know?"

"Her husband sought me out today," he admitted, kissing her cheek gently. "Seems we have much in common. He wants to take me hunting and when we move to our castle in Normandy this spring, he'd like for us to visit him in Avignon."

"He expects a lot," she admitted, looking up at him. "Is it coincidence?"

"I expect not," he smiled. "They are trying to gain favor, he outright admitted. Perhaps we should tread carefully."

"I'll keep that in mind," Gisla sighed, etching more letters. Rollo moved from the desk now, peeking out into the hall.

"Food please," he said, signaling the guard. "Something hot."

"As you wish," he assured, the door shutting softly. Rollo moved to the bed now, sprawled across it lazily. The door swung open a moment later and a servant came in, her face oddly familiar. He averted his eyes now, looking at the ceiling as the woman picked up his wet clothes and boots, organizing them and placing them in a woven basket. She then bowed and left, her eyes on him for a brief moment. He remained silent, still staring at the ceiling for several minutes but his mind was racing.

That was the kitchen wench he had taken in the hall that night he'd seen Athelstan. It had been a couple of months since then and Athelstan had only appeared to him one more time, in the church upon the cross. Now, he was unsure what was happening. That night had haunted him but there was no way that this woman should be left to attend to his personal life, or his wife. He could hear his heartbeat quicken, the idea of that woman revealing their encounter making him weary.

"I'll be back," he said, springing up and slipping on the warm linen robe hanging over one of the chairs. "I forgot to tell them something. Do you want anything?"

"No thank you," she replied, watching him slip his warm fur slippers on and head for the door. He nodded at her with a soft smile before slipping from the room and down the corridor. The guard spotted him and Rollo approached, looking down the hall. "Where did the maid go? I must get something back from her."

"That way," he pointed, nodding down the staircase. Rollo smiled and then followed her, quickly catching up to the echoes of her footfalls. When he did he ran in front of her, holding up her hand. "Maid," he said, looking her over. "Please, I must speak with you."

"If you are worried about me talking milord," she began, shaking her head as she suddenly became interested in his laundry again. "I won't. I've worked too hard to gain a position like this. To get out of the kitchens."

"Very well but I still believe we can work out something more appealing to both of us," he said, looking about to see if anyone was close. He then pulled her aside, lowering his voice. "I will pay you a sack of coins and find you a husband in the country to take care of you. I cannot have you around my wife, no matter your loyalty or work."

Her eyes went slightly wide and then she nodded, biting her lip. "I will accept but you must make it soon," she urged, looking about. "The walls are full of eyes and ears. Everything is revealed here, even insignificant things."

"I will have my own personal guard escort you from the castle to your husband in a two short days," he said, still looking about. "It will be quick and you must mention this to no one."

"I won't," she said, stepping away from him. "Please, make it quick. I'll await your men." She then bowed and quickly sped off down the hall. Rollo watched a moment, unsure if this was the right route. He didn't want her around them but at the same time he didn't know if getting rid of her would be obvious. She had accepted his offer quite quickly after defending her hard work to get to where she was. He didn't know what to think about it so he just sighed, heading back down the corridor and up the stairs. The guard was still standing across from the doors, bowing as Rollo entered and closed them behind him.

Gisla was still penning her letter at the desk when he entered again, a smile on her face. He nodded, removing his slippers and robe again. He then lay on the bed, looking back at the ceiling. He wasn't sure if his offer was too generous but tomorrow he would write to one of his deputies in Normandy and have him seek out a husband for a young woman. A good husband at least; Rollo could do that for her. Then he'd send his own personal guards north, along the river, on an overseeing mission. They can get the girl there within weeks.

It was only when Gisla was kneeling on the bed beside him that he noticed her presence. She simply smiled, placing a hand on his bare chest. "You are troubled by something," she said with a nod. "Your mind is wandering."

"It is a lot of work being the defender of Paris," he said, his arm going up to brush her hair out of her face. "How do you do it?"

"With humility," she laughed, her palm spread over his muscles. "Should I be worried that you are being overworked?"

"Sometimes I am," he admitted, twisting to place his hands on each of her hips, lifting her so that she was sitting on stomach, her legs hanging off the bed. "But it is good. Makes me feel useful."

"Certainly you could use a break," she insisted. "You've been hard at work for weeks now, ever since the Christmas season ended. We'll be coming up on lent soon."

"My work is never done my wife," he admitted, lacing his hand with hers, her small pale hand encased in his. "It is all in defense of Paris."

"And I thank you for it," she said, a genuine smile spreading over her features. "But you need a day off. Some time to spend within the castle, enjoying your time."

"I enjoy my time outside the castle," he admitted, meeting her eyes. He adjusted now so that he was sitting up against the headboard, Gisla sitting on his lap now. "I want to learn to hunt and fight like the Frankish. I cannot do that within the castle."

"I understand," she sighed, smirking at him. "But I too would also like to learn some things." She adjusted herself now, straddling his hips, her face close to his. "Teach me to hunt, teach me to fight."

His eyes went wide and he immediately wrapped his arms around her hips, a slight smirk on his face. "The princess wishes to learn how to fight like a shield maiden?"

"The barbarian wishes to learn royal politics?" she retorted, pressing her forehead to his. "The barbarian wishes to learn Latin and Frankish?" she teased.

"I see your point," he chuckled, sighing. "I can teach you but first you need to prepare."

"Prepare?" she asked, her eyes alight with curiosity. "How so?"

"This will not be easy. Your mind and body are not used to battle or hunting. To be fair," he admitted, squeezing her hips. "You are spoiled."

"I see," she said, resting against his torso now, her arms under her chin. "And what do I need to do?"

"You need to know that it won't be easy, that your body will suffer and your mind as well. You will probably want to give up," he said. "But if you don't, you'll have learned something very valuable."

"Do not let me give up then," she protested. "If I do this, I want to do this right. If I want to give up then I don't deserve to learn!"

"You will need to run quite a bit, get your muscles used to different movements and experiences. Learning to wield an axe is harder than learning to wield a blade."

"Would I not need both?" she questioned, her hand moving to his forehead to move his hair from his eyes.

"You could use both," he admitted. "In case your shield is lost."

"Then I want to learn," she admitted. "You love to battle, you are good at it. If anyone could teach me it would be you."

"You don't plan on killing me, do you?" he asked, a smile on his face. "Because I would be creating a deadly adversary."

"I am your apprentice," she corrected. "Who better than my own husband to teach me?"

"I agree on one condition," he said, stroking her back with his fingers. Her soft velvet and linen gown pressed tightly to her. She looked at him curiously, her hand moving down his cheek to his collar. She leaned back now, leaning over him. "A kiss," he demanded, his hands moving to her hips. "Just one."

"You demand much," she said, looking over his face. "But it is a small price to pay for the reward." She then chuckled and leaned in, her fingertips trailing up to his neck and into his hair. Her forehead was pressed to his now, their smiles mirrored. It had taken a while, and a lot of conversation and Latin lessons, to understand Gisla, to understand her soul. Once he realized what it meant to be married to her, he was willing to comply. There was something in her that touched him, made him believe that there may be a more peaceful way to approach life, approach a God. Rollo felt deep down that he would always have doubts but it was her certainty that kept him at his best.

He noticed, after a moment, that her smile was starting to fade and she looked so serious, like she had realized something life-changing. She then leaned in, one hand coming to his face, gently touching his beard. He could feel her relax atop him, her thighs hugging his sides cozily. Her eyes were different somehow, softer and filled with emotion. He watched her closely as she leaned in, hesitant at first. She had been kinder, more understanding, but not intimate. Her boldness had come out only recently with his frequent absences on commissions.

She then did it, captured his mouth with hers, her eyes wide at first and then closing, feeling his lips part for her to explore. He could taste her innocence, wonder at her technique, and enjoy every moment touching her. As her lips explored, pressed to his in heated uncertainty, he couldn't help but pull her flush against him, pressing his bare chest to her breasts. She blushed, the heat felt on his face as he licked her bottom lip. She paused, surprised by his attentions and then tried it herself, her tongue flicking out against his lip. He couldn't help but comply, his tongue finding hers as she experimented.

It wasn't long before she was grasping his shoulders, his attentions plain as he licked her lips, gently searching her. She was always surprised by his movements and he liked her subtle tensions. As he reached around her, holding her hips to his stomach, he could feel himself getting harder. Her soft and slender frame against him was more than he could bear. Over the past weeks all he'd dreamed about was being with her, touching her, being true man and wife. But he dare not rush it. She'd hugged him, held him in bed, spoke to him of fears and hopes, and taught him more about her people than he could have ever learned from someone else. He wanted all of her but he would not take it.

He couldn't help but moan as her lips searched his, her tongue darting out to touch his sensually. He enjoyed her inexperienced touches and he replied with a gentle nibble on her lower lip, her back arching as he did so. He was going crazy now, his hands immediately going to her bottom, making her gasp in response. He immediately paused, his eyes opening to find hers. She was watching him with curious surprise, her mouth hung open in confusion. He gently moved his hand back up, to the small of her back, his other hand going to her chin.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I took too much."

"N-no," she replied, her voice soft, bashful. "I was just surprised. This is all new to me."

"Would you like to stop?" he asked, his hands soft on her arms now. "If it is too much, we can stop."

"I like this," she admitted, her face blushing brightly. "It is slow, nice…"

"I am enjoying it too," he assured. "But, I do not want to frighten you. I am… very excited."

Her blush brightened, her eyes averted and her hand went to her mouth. He liked this look, the bashful look of an innocent princess. She sat there a second, her hand braced against his chest as she contemplated his words. Then she turned toward him, lowering her hand from her mouth and touching his chest.

"I understand," she nodded. She looked determined, a bit too serious. She then bit her lip, looking over his face before taking a deep breath. "What should I do?" she asked, her blush still rising.

"You don't need to do anything," he replied, his hands going to her face. "Nothing is required. I've got my payment."

"I want to," she admitted, her face a furious red color. "I have taught you much but now I want you to teach me." She then bit her lip again, looking away. "I don't want to… consummate yet. I'm afraid and I don't think it is fair to you. I do not want to be afraid of you our first time."

He nodded, watching her face, his fingers gently caressing her neck. She shivered and gently squeezed his shoulders. He smiled and sighed, shaking his head; it was too much. She was right, he didn't want to take her like that and he doubted he could hold back.

"No, it is alright," he assured. "You do not have to do anything."

"I want to help though," she said, unsure of how else to convince him. She looked both shy and guilty. "I want to become closer to you. Please," she said, finally looking back at him. "Teach me now."

He couldn't help but smile, his eyes alight with excitement and wonder. She was so weird, so different from any other woman. How was he going to do this? It was as if God had answered him immediately because there was a knock at the door. Rollo just sighed, moving from under her, setting her delicately on the bed, before moving toward the table. "Come in," he said, winking at his wife.

The steward came in with a tray and bowl of hot food, the wine both warm and not. He set them on the table, bowed, and then left the room quietly. Rollo took the cover off the platter, grabbing some warm pastries. He ate a few, sitting in the comfortable chair and watching his wife. She had decided to lay on the bed, among the plush pillows, her skirts still hiked and her hair mussed and falling over her face. When she noticed him watching she smiled, biting her lip in embarrassment. He just picked up a puff pastry filled with cream, deciding to tease the innocent princess. He gently held it, their gazes locked, as he licked out the cream filling, smirking when he was done. He even licked his lips, looking over her exposed legs.

Her legs crossed when she saw it, her mouth agape as he licked. Her cheeks tinted such a flush pink that her face almost glowed rosy red. He was sure she understood and he just grinned, looking back at the food on the tray. His stomach grumbled and he sighed, quickly munching on meat pies and hot ham. He also ate a few bites of carrot and potato, not looking back at his wife. After eating his fill and downing half the pitcher of wine, he turned to the bed, wiping his face with the deep red cloth on the table. Gisla was staring at him, her eyes narrowed. He could tell she was trying to figure him out, trying to understand.

"What?" he asked, moving toward her with a cup of wine. He handed it to her and she drank heartily, setting it on the table near the bed. She then sat up fully, looking up at him eagerly.

"So you will not teach me what you like?" she asked, placing her hands in her lap.

"Not tonight," he insisted, moving to touch her. He gently placed his hand on her face, the other on her arm. "Tonight we will sleep."

"No," she insisted, watching him closely. "Why will you not touch me?"

"Because if I do, I would not stop," Rollo insisted, squeezing her hand. "Please, do not let me do that to you."

Gisla remained silent for a moment and then nodded, lacing her fingers with his. "Fine," she admitted. She then grinned, moving to get comfortable. Since that night weeks ago she has taken to sleeping on his side of the bed, forcing him to hold her all night lest he be cast to the cold side of the bed. He didn't mind.

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 **Like it? Hate it? Review! :D Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you all so much for your condolences about my father's passing. I really appreciate it. Also, again, thank you for the birthday wishes. It has been a rough week but I knew I needed to get back to my writing. I needed something to be normal. Please review. It is greatly appreciated.**

 **I DO NOT OWN VIKINGS. VIKINGS IS OWNED BY HISTORY CHANNEL. I OWN NOTHING BUT THE ORIGINAL PLOT.**

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"I don't understand," Gisla said, sitting at the table. It was the next morning, both of them sleeping soundly throughout the night. Gisla, as usual, always rose before him and got herself dressed, the color she was wearing today a reflection of the day outside. It was blue skies, thick white clouds, and yellow rays of sun but her dress reflected it all. It was a beautiful blue dress, with white lace trimming and gentle yellow stitching. It was stunning because it hugged her body but it covered it all, from her elegant neck down to the tips of her toes. It was modest but alluring, something she easily hid with her large and warm furs and shawls.

"What is wrong?" Rollo asked from the bed, sprawled out over it comfortably. It was still warm from her prescience.

"It is a letter from Count Odo," she said, looking it over again. She was still disgusted by the man but she had softened, understanding that Rollo had to work close with him. "He has invited the royal family to feast in honor of the Emperor."

"Entire?" Rollo asked. Gisla had a large and royal family, all strewn throughout Frankia, Italia, the Lowlands, and the German lands.

"Those who are in residence," she corrected, smiling slightly. "My father, the two of us, my cousin William, and the Count Gerau with his new bride," she smirked at him, setting the letter down. "My cousin Ursula, Princess of Dam."

Rollo looked at her for a moment, a bit quizzical, before he shrugged, looking back at the ceiling. He could hear her thinking, her mind overworking the invitation until she finally gave an exasperated sigh and stood up. The chair squeaked across the floor as she stood and crossed the room, warming her hands in front of the fire. It was quite chilly out today, despite the blue skies and sunshine. Rollo couldn't help but stare at his young wife as she stood by the fire. He was entranced.

He stared at her, the toned silhouette like that of a goddess. Her face, as she stared into the low burning fire, was more than it seemed. Behind her warm brown eyes was some sort of fear. She looked troubled but he could see the thoughts unfolding within them; her very soul was revealed this way. As if she had worked out her problem, her eyes became alive with possibility, darting over the flames and logs like a ritual. He was enchanted by the way she plotted and schemed, never speaking a word as she stared absently into the fire.

She had crossed her arms at first but soon had wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her stomach gently. She was also tapping her foot, the rhythm slow and steady as her hand drifted up to her long brown locks, twirling some strands between her fingers. She looked so adorable like this and he couldn't help himself. He immediately sprang up off the bed, like a wolf prowling for his pray, and approached her slowly. She did not hear nor notice him until his arms were tightly wrapped around her, just over her arms and under her breasts. She was stunned when he leaned down and held her, her head snapping over her shoulder to better see him. He just smiled, shrugging again.

"You startled me," she said, looking back at the fire. "I had forgotten you were here."

"I was watching you," he replied, his arms hugging her gently. "You looked like you had come up with an idea."

"I had realized something," she admitted, her arms going over his, playing with the hair on his arms. "This dinner invitation could be a political maneuver. You did say that Count Gerau had outright told you he wanted to gain favor. Perhaps he's gone to Count Odo as well. Playing both sides?"

"Would be smart," Rollo admitted. "Gerau has limited options. He is new and has no allies in Paris."

"We must be careful," she whispered, taking a deep breath before sighing. "Careful of both Odo and Gerau."

"We will be," he whispered back, his breath grazing her ear. "When is the dinner?"

"Tonight," she said with a nod. "It's the eve of Lent."

"Lent," Rollo repeated, his mind searching. He knew what it was but he could not recall its significance.

"Yes, a time of fasting and remembrance," Gisla said, turning in his arms so her hands were pressed against his strong chest.

"Is it right?" Rollo asked, looking over her face. "To eat a big meal the night before?"

"It is something to be thankful for," she whispered, pressing her cheek to his chest. "By eating a lavish meal before the beginning of Lent, we are thanking God for his bounty but we are also remaining humble by knowingly giving up such luxury."

"I see," Rollo said, a thoughtful look on his face. He understood the concept and was somewhat humbled by the idea but at the same time he wasn't sure what it truly accomplished. "What do we eat?"

"Fish, simple meals of vegetables and unadorned breads," Gisla said, pulling away from him. "We've been invited to dine with the bishop this morning so you should get dressed."

"Excellent," Rollo commented, kissing her cheek gently. He could see her blush but he just chuckled, squeezing her arms now. "I must ask him more about God."

"Do not bother him," Gisla advised. "Ask some questions but try not to be so demanding."

"Demanding?" he asked, turning from her now. He walked over to the chest at the end of their bed and opened it, pulling out some of his lavish garments. He chose a simple pair of leather breeches and a dark blue tunic, shedding his linen breeches right in front of the mortified princess. She immediately turned from him, staring into the fire nervously. He couldn't help notice her embarrassment and felt a bit prideful, knowing that his wife was shy about his exposed body. "I did not think I was being demanding asking about God."

"To know God is to know truth," Gisla said, still not looking at him as he slipped on his clothing. "There is nothing wrong with knowing more."

"I agree," he replied, fixing his shirt. "Perhaps you would like to know more about me?" At this she looked up at him, a somewhat perplexed look on her face. He just smiled back at her, slipping on his boots. After doing that he made his way over to her, taking her hand gently. "Is there anything you want to know?"

She looked over his face for a moment, her eyes lingering on his green ones as she pondered his offer. She then shrugged, looking back at the fire. "I'm not sure," she said, biting her bottom lip. "What about your markings?" she asked, looking back at him. "The images on your body. What are those for?"

"To display our stories," he replied, striding toward her. "To show our accomplishments in battle and in life to the gods."

"They are to glorify your gods?"

"In a way," he said, taking her hand in his. "They also show that we are finally men and women. It is a symbol of adulthood."

"I see," she nodded. "It is all so strange to me."

"So are your ways," he chuckled, kissing the top of her hand. "Your Christian ways are so restrictive."

"Compared to pagans," she said, looking up at him. "But there is only one God Rollo and he gave his only son to die so that all humans could enter heaven one day."

"I know," Rollo smiled, touching her face. "What else would you like to know?"

Gisla looked at him a moment, unsure at first, and then a glimmer of curiosity sparked in her dark eyes. Rollo immediately noticed, excitement washing over him. They watched each other for a moment, Gisla's question on the tip of her tongue, as if caught by a trap. Rollo couldn't help but stare at her lips, her tongue darting out to wet them in nervous anticipation. He didn't want to hold back anymore and he gave in, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her against him, his lips crushing hers hungrily. It was passionate, curious, and completely unplanned, so much so that Gisla had lost her strength, giving Rollo and excuse to lift her body against his. He had hiked her dress up as well, allowing her to place her knees around his hips.

It was only after she ran out of air, pulling away from Rollo's lips with a soft sigh, that she realized how inappropriately linked they were. Her blushing was adorable and he let a low chuckle roll from his chest, vibrating her body as he held her. She stayed like that a moment, her one hand gripping his shoulder, the other on his chest. She could feel his rough hands holding her up, one arm wrapped around her bottom so she was sitting on it, the other grasping her exposed thigh.

"We should go," she said, her hand going from his shoulder to his hair, running her fingers through his curly locks. "We have breakfast with the bishop."

"He can wait," Rollo said with a smirk, hoisting her up with his arm so she was looking down at him. He smiled up at her, his hand going from her thigh to her neck, caressing it gently. Her eyes closed at his touch, her lips parting as he gently trailed up her jaw and cheek, cupping her face. She smiled at this, her eyes opening slowly to look at him. He wasn't sure what the look on her face meant but it was a kind, almost knowing, look. He nodded, kissing her cheek before lowering her back down to the floor.

She squeezed his arm, fixing her dress before going to her closet, pulling out a heavy fur shawl. After clasping it over her shoulders she slipped off her fur slippers and replaced them with her leather ones, the velvet soles custom for her sensitive feet. Rollo had even asked her how he could get his own pair of boots in such a fashion; he had taken to velvet. She was all ready to head to the bishop's chambers, Rollo slipping on the last of his gold and silver chains and baubles. Rollo had noticed that she had a few simple rings and a few pendants but she never wore them. She thought them too indulgent at times and would only wear all of her jewelry during holidays or special occasions.

"Ready?" he asked, moving toward the chamber doors. She nodded and grabbed his arm, walking with him out of their rooms and down the hall. The guards bowed as they passed, the castle already alive in the early morning light. Servants rushed back and forth and monks and priests rushed to services and lessons. Even some early rising nobles and council members were wandering about, gossiping and enjoying the warm wine that was always served on cold winter mornings. Rollo immediately noticed Count Gerau in the long hall, sipping on some wine by the fire with a young woman, almost the same age as Gisla. She had long dark locks and bright blue eyes, her dress was maroon and gold. Gerau noticed Rollo and Gisla and immediately rose from his seat, bowing as they approached.

"Lord Gerau," Rollo said, bowing to his colleague. Gisla looked over at Rollo briefly before smiling at her royal cousins. Lord Gerau and his young bride recognized Gisla, bowing their respects to the princess, before smiling back. "I see you are well."

"I am very well Count Rollo," he said, his young wife placing her hand on his arm. He smiled over at her, his other hand laying over hers. "Princess Gisla, Count Rollo, I would like to introduce my wife. Princess Ursula of Dam."

"I have heard much about you," Gisla said, taking her cousin's hand. "I am happy to welcome my royal relative to Paris."

"I am honored to be welcomed by the Princess of Paris," she said with a nod. "The pair of you are The Saviors of Paris."

"Such titles have reached even the lowlands?" Gisla asked, her curiosity peaked.

"Oh yes," she nodded. "You and Count Rollo are famous throughout the whole of Europe!"

"We are flattered," Gisla assured, taking Rollo's arm again.

"As are we to receive an invitation to a feast in honor of the Emperor. We are both honored to attend."

"Indeed," Ursula said. "I have heard nothing but wonderful things about Parisian food."

"It is very good," Rollo assured. "I enjoy the sweet breads."

"As do I," the young princess admitted, a smile spread across her face. "We have little sweets in our food back home."

"Then the feast shall be a rare treat," Gisla said. "We will all have much to talk about."

"Indeed Princess," Lord Gerau bowed. "We shall not keep you any longer. You looked to be in a hurry."

"Thank you Count Gerau," Rollo replied. "We look forward to seeing you again." He then placed his hand over Gisla's on his arm, leading her down the corridor again. When they moved further away Gisla squeezed Rollo's arm, looking up at him.

"That was no coincidence," she commented quietly. "Lord Gerau was conveniently placed for our encounter. He knew of our plans to meet with the bishop this morning."

"He is watching us?" Rollo asked, the bite of irritation evident in his voice.

"Someone is," she replied. "But I know not who. It could be anyone. Count Gerau has a lot of power and money now."

"We will have to stay cautious," Rollo said, leading her down the stairs toward the lower floors near the chapel. There were more people on the lower floors, wandering about the corridors preparing for the day. As the two approached the bishop's chambers, they noticed several nobles and clergy gathered in the hall, near the fire talking and eating. When they spotted the couple they immediately stood, bowing. It was the steward at the bishops door that stopped them, bowing in respects.

"Sorry Count, Princess," he said, his voice cracking. "The bishop is in a meeting."

"We were invited to dine with the bishop this morning," Gisla said, her eyes narrowing. The steward could tell she was displeased but he was watching Rollo, the Count's temper well known.

"He is expecting you," the steward assured. "But he is preoccupied and has ordered me to allow no one to disturb him."

"I am not no one," Gisla protested, looking up at Rollo and then back at the young man. "I am Princess Gisla of Frankia, Savior of Paris. You will tell your master that we are here and will not wait."

The steward hesitated, looking at Gisla with fearful eyes before looking between her and Rollo. Rollo must have frightened him because the boy immediately bowed and opened the chamber door, entering and shutting it behind him.

"Can you believe that?" Gisla asked, looking back up at Rollo. "He asked us to breakfast and then wastes our time."

"He offends you?" Rollo asked, looking at the door. "I should scare him."

"He is a man of God," Gisla protested, looking at the door. "Whoever he is meeting must be more important than us. There are few people who fit that category."

"Your father?"

"Perhaps," Gisla replied. "I cannot imagine anyone else outranking you or I."

It was at that moment that the young steward opened the chamber doors, stepping aside for the intruding party. It was none other than Count Odo. He spotted the two and bowed, smiling slightly at Rollo.

"Good morning Count Rollo, Princess Gisla," he said. "Sorry for my impertinence. I needed to exchange words with the bishop before I depart."

"Depart?" Rollo asked. "You plan to leave Paris, Count Odo?"

"Briefly," he said. "Just today and tonight, I should be back tomorrow morning."

"Is everything alright?" Rollo replied, noticing the annoyed look on Gisla's face.

"Fine Count Rollo," he said with a smile. "We are scouting the riverbanks for vantage points. I am also travelling upriver to secure our lumber supply."

"I could have helped," Rollo insisted. "I would enjoy another trip upriver." He felt Gisla squeeze his arm now, making sure to keep eye contact with Odo.

"That is very generous of you Count Rollo," Odo responded, a smile on his face. "But I do not want to take up all of your time. Your wife must miss you on long days away from Paris."

"Indeed," Gisla spoke up, ignoring Odo's tone. "But we are late to dine with the bishop. If you'll excuse us, Count Odo…"

"Absolutely Princess," he said, stepping aside and bowing. As they passed, Rollo noticed Odo's eyes lingering on Gisla and he nearly growled at the older man. Gisla hadn't noticed Odo's eyes but she did notice Rollo's arm snaking around her waist. When the steward had closed the door behind them Gisla moved out of his arms, her eyes going wide at his brash gesture.

"Rollo," she whispered, making sure that the bishop was not near. He must have been in his private rooms. "That was inappropriate."

"It was needed," Rollo whispered, taking a step toward her. He then leaned down and kissed her lips gently, his hands finding hers, pulling her palms to his chest. When he pulled away his hands went to her hips, her eyes going wide.

"I don't understand," she admitted, unsure what he was doing. "We cannot be so intimate in front of the bishop."

"It is not for the bishop," Rollo said, kissing her lips again, his eyes meeting hers when he pulled away. "Count Odo, he wants you but you are not his. You are mine."

Gisla just stared at him in disbelief, the confusion evident in her face as she watched him. It was only when they heard a door shut that she pulled away from him, her eyes averted in shame. The bishop walked into the room now, his lavish gown and garments rustling behind him.

"Ah, princess Gisla, Count Rollo," he said, his voice higher pitched and accented. "Welcome. So sorry to keep you waiting."

"Indeed," Gisla said, looking about. "I see you already had a guest this morning. Perhaps we are intruding?"

"Not at all!" the bishop chuckled, offering for her to follow him into his private dining chambers. "Count Odo was quite unexpected."

"What could the count have wanted from our pious bishop so early in the morning?" Gisla asked, sitting down on the plush chair at the round table. Rollo followed suit, sitting next to her as the bishop poured them both some warm wine.

"The count was seeking a small favor," the bishop commented, sitting down across from them. "Nothing interesting enough to concern you, princess."

"Surely there is nothing interesting about that sinful old man," Gisla said, sipping on her cup. The bishop simply looked at her, not bothering to respond to her accusations. This must have irritated her because she looked away now, becoming suddenly interested in the fireplace.

"Count Rollo," the bishop began, turning rom the displeased princess. "How have you been? It has been a while since we've spoken."

"I have been well, bishop," he said, drinking from his cup. "Our preparations are going well and my Latin lessons are coming along."

"Excellent," he said, waving at the steward as he entered. "Boy, get us some breakfast. Bring a variety and be quick about it." The steward nodded and hurried from the room, the bishop downing the rest of his cup before refilling it. "Tell me, do you understand what the upcoming season of lent is?"

"My wife has explained," Rollo said, touching her arm. "It is about fasting and paying for our sins."

"In a way," he said, sipping his drink. "It is the time of year that we remember Christ's suffering and what he gave for us lowly sinners."

"So we celebrate his decision to be crucified?" Rollo asked, looking between Gisla and the bishop.

"The celebration of his resurrection from the grave is known as Easter," the bishop assured, grabbing an apple from the bowl on the table. He bit into it noisily, offering Rollo one as well. He shook his head to refuse and immediately began his line of questioning.

"So, we celebrate his birth in the winter, his suffering and resurrection in the spring?" Rollo asked, curious about their strange ways.

"That is correct," the bishop assured. "You learn quickly."

"I want to learn," Rollo assured.

"Good," he said, holding up his cup. "A toast to Count Rollo."

"To Count Rollo," Gisla said, raising her own cup. "My fearsome husband."

Rollo couldn't help but smile at his wife, sipping on his wine, their eyes still locked.

"So," the bishop said, looking between them. "I must ask you a more personal question. I have been worried about the two of you and I feel it my Christian duty to speak to you about your marriage."

"What is there to discuss?" Gisla asked, looking back at the bishop. "Surely there are more pressing issues for a bishop of Rome to attend to."

"Unfortunately no," the bishop said, shaking his head. "This issue, I am afraid, needs to be breeched. I admit that it is the main reason I have asked you to dine with me."

"How dishonest," Gisla protested, looking between the bishop and Rollo. "I do not feel that it is appropriate to speak of with you."

"On the contrary princess," the bishop said, leaning forward and folding his hands on the table. He looked as if he was about to lecture Gisla and Rollo knew this didn't sit well with her. "Being a priest of God gives me a look into the married lives of all of God's flock." He looked at Rollo now, smiling slightly. "You see, your marriage is a vital one to our country. Your union, and offspring, will determine the future of your noble house, of Charlemagne's lineage."

It was then that the chamber doors swung open once again, the steward returning with a couple of young men laden with trays and dishes of food. When they had set it all down, poured more wine, and served the table, the bishop dismissed them hastily, hungrily grabbing some meat filled pies. He ate one in a few bites as Gisla and Rollo started picking at their food.

"Bishop, I appreciate your concern for my great grandfather's lineage, our country, and our souls," Gisla finally said, taking a bite of warm bread. "But I do not believe that we should involve others when making decisions about our relationship," Gisla insisted. "A marriage is between the couple and God."

"Are you saying I do not speak for God?" the bishop asked, his eyebrows shooting up in both amusement and horror as he ate.

"No, I am merely saying that an unmarried priest would have no insight into marriage," she ground out, becoming impatient, deciding to hide her scorn by sipping from her cup.

"I do not see how a devout Christian woman, such as yourself, could think such blasphemy," the bishop said, his hand going to his adorned cross draped around his thick neck and then he picked up another sweet pastry, eating half in one bite. "A bishop is appointed by the Pope himself and he is God's true voice on earth. Tell me, is The Holy Father not insightful either?"

"Bishop, please," Gisla said, raising her hand. "I did not mean-."

"Princess Gisla," he interrupted, setting his food down and staring directly at her. "You are a woman and so most of these more complicated issues of ecclesiastical law will elude you. Understand this; as the highest ranking church official in Frankia, it is my job to assure that royal marriages succeed in producing an heir. It is my job to make sure that your marriage is consummated."

"Listen here you pompous priest," Gisla said, moving to stand. She wasn't expecting Rollo to grab her wrist gently, nor was she expecting the look in his eyes when she looked down. He knew he was pleading with her, silently asking for her to give the priest a chance to explain. He just didn't understand and he sincerely wanted to. However, it seems that there are differing opinions on what God's will is. Gisla must have understood because her eyes softened and she sat back down, her hand now laying in his. "Apologies, bishop," she whispered, looking at the balding man.

"No need princess," he replied, a smug smile on his face. Rollo even noticed it and found his features to be irritating. "Women can be fickle, emotional, creatures. You just need to understand the precarious position you are in."

"What do you mean?" Rollo finally asked, his hand still holding hers; neither of them had noticed nor cared. "Why precarious?"

"You see," the bishop said, sitting back in his chair and drinking some of his wine. "Gisla has two uncles, both rich and royalty. One is the king of the German lands to the east, the other is a rich nobleman who owns land in Italy to the south, The Lowlands in the North, and parts of Frankia in the west."

"I know," Rollo said, nodding. He did know that quite well; in order to understand his princess bride he had tried to learn all he could about her from the wanderer and from what other nobles had to say. "Why is this a precarious?"

"Precarious means that it is a difficult situation," Gisla said, understanding that he didn't quite grasp the word. "The problem is that my uncles both have sons."

"Precisely," the bishop nodded. "You see, the Emperor has no living sons and one living daughter. He needs to have a proper male heir before his death or else there could be war for the title of Emperor."

"We cannot fight two wars," Rollo said, his eyes widening at the thought. "Ragnar is coming. We cannot have our enemies become friends."

"Exactly!" the priest agreed, taking a large bite of pork. He chewed quickly, sipping on his wine again. "Now that you understand this, you see why your position is precarious. Both of the Emperor's nephews are young, younger than princess Gisla by six years at least."

"Which is why we have time," Gisla said, stabbing a piece of cheese on her plate. She ate it slowly, enjoying the silence in the room. "You act as if my father was already dead. Is that what you and Count Odo were plotting?"

"Plotting?" the bishop gasped, dramatically making the sign of the cross.

"Gisla," Rollo said, shaking his head.

"Princess," the bishop said, looking at her. "You have changed. You used to be so kind, so devout, but now you are questioning my understanding and faith. I am a man of God! I do not plot."

"Then why are you in such a hurry to breed me like a prize mare?" she asked, standing again. "I cannot sit here and be insulted like this. Man of God or not, you are not honest and you are not the voice of the almighty."

"Gisla!" Rollo said, standing now. He immediately saw her cringe at the sound of his angered voice, her eyes finding his face and then immediately looking away in shame. He could tell she felt foolish and that she had hurt him. It had been so many weeks since she had treated him like that, like he was some sort of creature not worthy of her attention. He also noticed the tears of frustration and fear starting to form. He immediately shielded this from the bishop, pulling her to him in one swift motion while cradling her head against his chest.

Gisla stiffened immediately and they were silent. The bishop was lazily watching from his chair, holding his wine glass in one hand and picking through pastries with the other. It was only after a few moments that she understood what he was doing, her hand going up to touch his upper arm. "I am sorry I yelled," Rollo said, letting go of her slowly. "I only meant to understand. You both can't be right."

"I know," she said, stepping away from him and nodding. She then took her seat again, staring down at her plate in quiet attentiveness. Rollo followed her, sitting down and picking up the pitcher of wine. He offered some to the bishop and poured some more for Gisla before himself. He took a sip and then grabbed Gisla's hand, looking back at the bishop.

"Bishop," Rollo said, smiling at him. "Princess Gisla is my wife and so I must consummate our marriage for it to be true, right?"

"Yes," the bishop nodded, clapping his hands. "I am so glad you understand Count Rollo. The Emperor will be overjoyed when you tell him."

"You do not understand," Rollo said, squeezing Gisla's smaller fingers between his own. He could see her eyes on him now. "Where I am from we treat our women with respect. They birth our warriors, our sons and daughters. If Princess Gisla wishes for our marriage to remain unconsummated than for now I must accept that decision. If the pagan's respect their own women than surely a Christian princess deserves just as much."

He could feel Gisla's hand squeezing his, a twitch in her lip confirming the smile behind her blank stare. It was the bishop who decided to speak now, his eyes drifting between the two of them in confusion and awe.

"I do not know what to say to such a statement Count Rollo," he admitted, raising his glass. "But you are certainly right about one thing. If the pagans can treat their women with respect, than good Christian men should do the same."

"Make no mistake bishop," Rollo said, a smile coming to his face. "I am trying to win her heart. She is just willful, like your Moses on his mountain."

The bishop laughed heartily at this, his face read from enjoyment. Rollo couldn't help but smile stupidly at Gisla who was holding back a smile of her own. He knew she was shocked at his words but he didn't know how she truly felt inside. He wanted, more than anything, to make her safe and to start their lives. He knew there was much he had to take care of before he could be a true husband to her but he only wished it would come sooner.

His brother's impending invasion brings back his past, something he had tried to completely shut out. He could not change it all, he could not forget the past thirty years of his life, but he could try to lice in his new life. He could devote himself to this path because now it was the only one left open to him. He had assumed it would be tedious and frustrating and he was right. It was beyond what he had thought, the tedium and anger welling with nowhere to go.

"Well Count Rollo, Princess Gisla," the bishop said. "I cannot argue with the Saviors of Paris."

"Indeed, and nor can I with God almighty," Gisla said, holding up her cup. "To God."

"To God," both Rollo and the bishop echoed, drinking the rest of their wine in good spirits and chatter about the Bible and God. Rollo and Gisla didn't know it was happening, not while they were lost in truths and faiths, but it was growing. Something between them had fit and it was nearly noon when they left the bishop to his work and ceremonies. As they made their way down the hall, Rollo spotted one of his guards approaching. He was freshly returned from the construction project in the north, overseeing the clearing of land for the endeavor. Rollo waved him over and then turned to Gisla, smiling softly.

"You have plans for this afternoon?" Rollo asked, holding her hands in his now. She nodded, a smile on her face. "My ladies are probably waiting for me back in our chambers with all of my lessons and duties."

"Lessons?" Rollo asked as the soldier approached.

"Yes," she blushed. "I… I wanted it to be a surprise for you." She bit her lip now, looking about. She then leaned in closer, Rollo stooping to listen. "I am wanting to speak you language," she said, her accent thick and funny to his ear. He immediately chuckled, cupping her face with his hand.

"Good," he replied in his own native tongue, kissing her cheek. "I will see you later this afternoon wife," he assured, speaking her language again. "We can discuss our lessons then." He then nodded, waiting for her to walk away before turning to the soldier. "Did you just return?"

"Yes Count," the man replied. "The project will start soon. I will be leaving tomorrow for our final tower project."

"Normandy?" Rollo asked, looking about.

"Yes milord," he replied.

"Good, take a trusted man, someone discrete and skillful. If you do this in complete secrecy I will give you gold. If you chose the right man for the job and he remains silent, you'll get some property after this construction project is all over."

"Yes sir," he said, watching Rollo attentively.

"I need you to take a girl with you. She'll be waiting for you tomorrow night in the kitchens. Take her away from everyone and hide her amongst the supplies and tools headed north. Take her to Normandy, to my castle. My sheriff will have a place for her to go once you get there. Return without incident and you'll both be rewarded."

"Yes sir," the soldier nodded. "Anything else sir?"

"No," Rollo replied, straightening his pendant and shirt. "Now tell me everything about the towers that are already built."

It wasn't long before Rollo found himself in the armory and then along the ramparts of the city, looking out over the wide river. He had lost track of time, talking of defenses and battle formations with his captains. By the time he had realized it, the sun was beginning to sink in the sky. He had totally forgotten about the dinner invitation. He only prayed he made it back in time to bathe and dress.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Was anyone else freaking out about this weeks episode? I was just able to watch it this morning and O.M.G. ROLLOXGISLA is amazing. 3 I love how she's like, "Oh, you learned my language? Let's fuck." Not so angry about being married to him now, is she? :D Sorry. I just had to fangirl for a moment. This week has been pretty darn rough with dad's passing so even a little bit of awesomeness (even in a fictional world) is still better than nothing. :D So enjoy! I typed a lot of this AFTER that episode so I was trying to keep it sorta close. Also, PLEASE REVIEW!**

 **VIKINGS AND ALL RELATED MATERIALS ARE OWNED BY HISTORY CHANNEL. I OWN NOTHING BUT THE ORIGINAL PLOT.**

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"Where have you been?" Gisla asked, Rollo rushing into their bedchamber. "A bath is poured but it is growing cold. Quickly," she urged, fixing her hair in the golden mirror.

Rollo only nodded, stripping himself hastily and making his way toward the wooden bath that had been set up near the bed. He hopped in, soaking himself from neck to toe in the warm water, lavender assaulting his senses. He quickly cleansed himself, soaking his long hair for a moment before running his hands over his dirt speckled arms and chest. It was then that he felt the water streaming over his shoulders and down his back. Gisla had grabbed a linen cloth and was squeezing water over his back and shoulders. Rollo just smiled, trying to finish quickly, Gisla's soft attentions getting to him as he sat only inches away from her with nothing between them but her soft velvet dress.

He turned to her now, smiling slightly, his hand grabbing hers as she went to wipe down his arm. "Thank you but I am done," he said. "I will dress now." He was subtly warning her that he was about to be exposed, her embarrassment flushing her cheeks as she moved away from the tub, her eyes averted. He quickly got out and grabbed the linen cloth, drying his body as quickly as he could. He saw that Gisla had laid out his clothing for him, the black and silver pattern more elegant that he had ever seen. He also noticed that she had also placed out some of his finer trinkets and jewels. He quickly dressed himself, tying on the linen leggings and his tunic, the gems falling over his chest heavily. He was about to fix his hair, to pull it back behind his head, when Gisla turned to him, motioning for him to stop.

"I will fix it," she insisted, approaching him. "Please sit," she offered, motioning to the chair at the table. Rollo nodded, grabbing the fine dark leather boots that she had laid out at the foot of the bed. He sat down and slipped them on, leaning back to look at his wife.

"It is stubborn," he admitted, running his rough hands through the curly brown locks.

"I can fix it," she insisted, her own hands finding his hair. It was a bit matted, her fingers combing through it as gently as possible. Rollo was enjoying her gentle touches, his eyes closing as she combed through his hair, touching his scalp gently and folding his hair over itself as she did so. He hadn't even noticed what she was doing to his hair but when she was done she gently cupped his cheek, walking around him to see what she had accomplished.

"That is better," she assured, her hand trailing up to a stray lock. She pushed it back over his shoulder, nodding. "Much better. You look quite regal."

"I am sorry I was late," he admitted. "I had lost track of time. The armory and guard towers are in need of repair."

"No need," she said. "I'm just glad you made it back in time. I did not want to attend alone."

"Your father would be there," Rollo insisted, standing now. He looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes widening slightly. Gisla had tied his hair back from just above his ears over his forehead, allowing it to fall in loose curly locks over his back. It didn't look bad, much like his old style but the golden rings she placed in it made him feel that much more important. "It is very nice."

"I thought your old hair style was more becoming," she admitted. "It makes you look fiercer, more ferocious."

"Should I look ferocious?" Rollo asked, still inspecting his jewels and hair.

"We must put on a show," Gisla smirked, coming up next to him and placing a hand on his arm. He saw that her hairstyle closely resembled his, her long locks pulled back over her ears and head to fall down her back. "Father is just one of the people we need to impress. We must intimidate Count Odo and Gerau, see who is truly desperate for our friendship."

"How?" Rollo asked, turning to her now, his hands finding her arms.

"We must set a trap," Gisla admitted, looking up at him with fierce intensity. "If they are working together than telling one of them a false secret would mean that the other would know of it as well. I shall tell my cousin Ursula that I am secretly arranging a divorce. She will tell her husband and if he is working with Odo, Odo will move to block me."

"That is perfect," Rollo admitted, wrapping his arms around her waist. "You are so dangerous."

"I will be much more dangerous when you train me," she admitted, her hands going up his chest to his shoulders. "When do you think that will be?"

"We need to start with basics," Rollo admitted. "You need to walk every day. Take a guard or two and go on long walks through the forest. Get acquainted with yourself this way. You can test your limits."

"And then?" she urged, squeezing his shoulders. Her eyes were searching his face quickly, a smirk forming on hers. "Will you keep me waiting?"

"When you can handle the physical demands of training, we can begin," he said, leaning down and kissing her forehead. "It will take time."

"Very well," she agreed, closing her eyes as his lips rested against her forehead. "But we need to be cautious. If others learned of our plans they would put a stop to it."

"Then we shall train in secret," Rollo insisted, pulling back now and looking down at her. "But it is late. Let's head to dinner."

She just nodded, linking her arm with his. She looked quite stunning tonight, her dress a mirror of his own outfit. It was black with silver trim and needlework, the vine and flower pattern across her chest making the silver rings and beads in her hair that much more noticeable. Rollo couldn't help but smile stupidly at her, her eyebrows raised in amusement.

"Yes," she asked as he stared, her eyes drifting away from his.

"You're stunning," he admitted, placing his hand over hers. "I am a lucky man."

"You are too kind," she said, looking toward the door. "But that is the point. Count Odo will certainly notice our matching appearance and this dress will hold his attention."

"I don't like him looking at you," Rollo admitted, his eyes intense. "It worries me."

"He is no match for my husband," she insisted, squeezing his arm tightly. "And I have no interest in him. He is a disgusting old man who has always tormented me, ever since I was a child."

"I am more worried about what he could do when I am not with you," Rollo growled, his eyes growing dark. "The count is a useful ally against my brother but he is dangerous competition to you and your father's heir."

"The bishop has made you worry," Gisla smiled, nodding toward the door. "Let's go before father sends an escort."

Rollo escorted her from the chamber, instructing the guards to get the maids to empty the tub while they were gone. When they had made their way down the corridor, to the stairs leading up to the King's suite, Rollo heard a faint scratching, his eyes going wide. Gisla hadn't even noticed the noise as it filled the hall, her eyes in front of them as they approached the large double doors. Two guards stood watch, their glimmering iron armor reflecting the candlelight in the corridor. They both bowed, moving aside and opening the doors.

They entered the brightly lit antechamber, the fire burning in the hearth and a long table draped in silk and covered in platters and bowls of food. Rollo immediately noticed the Emperor standing near a fine wooden vanity, sipping on some wine with Count Odo. Both of their eyes landed on Gisla and Rollo and the Emperor smiled, approaching them with excitement.

"Good! You are here at last. It is rude to keep your Emperor waiting," he said, taking Gisla's hands and kissing her cheeks. He then placed a hand on Rollo's shoulder, smiling up at him. "How was your breakfast with the bishop? I also hear you were busy all afternoon with the armory and ramparts."

"Indeed, I have been lead to believe that you are a very hands-on leader," Count Gerau asked, Rollo now noticing the lavishly dressed Count standing by the fire with his elegantly dressed bride. She smiled at the royal couple, curtseying to them both before taking a sip from her own silver goblet.

"I have had a busy day," Rollo admitted, nodding at the Emperor. "Breakfast was informative. The bishop knew many things that I did not. He also helped me to understand the significance of Lent."

"Lent is a most pious time," the Emperor said, motioning for Odo to bring Rollo a cup of wine. He did so, bowing to Rollo out of respect before handing both him and Gisla a cup of wine. "We take time to remember the suffering and simplicity that Christ embodied."

"It is good to remember the simple and humble message Christ had to teach us," Gisla said, raising her cup. "We should all be truly grateful for his sacrifice."

"Well said daughter," the Emperor said, nodding in agreement. "Now that we are all present, shall we eat?"

"I am starving," Rollo admitted, a smile on his face. "I've had nothing but breakfast today."

"Then let us enjoy this lavish feast before the start of Lent," Count Gerau insisted, motioning for the Emperor to take his seat at the table.

The group sat themselves at the table, conversing about Rollo's visit to the armory as they ate. It was light conversation, polite and uninteresting and when they had finished the last course of the meal, the conversation switched to something that they were all concerned with.

"Since tomorrow begins the season of Lent, I believe it is appropriate to discuss some key issues that not only have I considered in the past, but have come up more recently in conversations with my council and priests," the Emperor said, sipping his wine.

"Is this the true reason we have been summoned to this feast?" Gisla asked, setting her own wine down. She felt Rollo's hand grasp hers, her eyes glancing over his face before turning back to her father.

"My daughter is clever," the Emperor said, looking over his cup at her. He then set his cup down, sighing before sitting back in his chair. "Since you insist on being so blunt, so shall I. I have been concerned, for many weeks now because you are not pregnant."

"Father!" she protested, her eyes drifting around the table. "This is not appropriate here."

"On the contrary," the Emperor said, shaking his head. "It is entirely appropriate. You see, Count Gerau has informed me that his new bride, my niece, is with child already. Can you explain to me why their brief marriage has already eclipsed your own, considering that your marriage took place over five months ago?"

The table was quiet, all eyes on Gisla as she considered her father's words. Rollo could tell she felt overwhelmed, her eyes darting from her father to the table in front of her, unsure how to respond. Her hand was still in Rollo's, his fingers squeezing hers before he spoke, Gisla's eyes immediately finding his face.

"Princess Gisla is not someone to be forced into anything," he assured. "Though congratulations are in order for you, Princess Ursula."

"Thank you Count Rollo," she said, her voice soft. "We hope for a son."

"Doesn't every parent?" Rollo asked, a smile on his face. "Only God knows our children before we do."

"Yes," Count Gerau agreed, taking Ursula's hand. "And only God can give us such blessings."

"God gives our children as the greatest gift," the Emperor agreed. "And there is no other woman in this world that is more devout than my beautiful daughter Gisla. So, explain to me why after all these months you are still not pregnant."

"This is entirely inappropriate and I refuse to answer," Gisla said, removing her hand from Rollo's. "It is none of Count Odo's, the bishop's, or any other council member's business!" She moved to stand up now, grabbing her cup up and raising it to her father. "It was a good meal. I will retire now. Goodnight." She then turned from the table and left the suite, the doors swinging closed behind her.

"My daughter is willful and stubborn," the Emperor said, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "She shames both myself and her husband."

"She does not shame me," Rollo assured, looking to the Emperor. "She is willful and stubborn but these are the reasons that I respect her."

"You are too kind Count Rollo," Count Odo insisted, taking a drink from his cup. "Such a willful wife will surely make you miserable."

"Such harsh words, Count Odo," Count Gerau interjected, looking between them. "Surely none of us can understand how the princess is feeling. Even my own wife was hesitant at first. Surely Princess Gisla feels the same."

"I have done all I possibly can to be appealing to her," Rollo said, taking a drink of his wine. "But she refuses to recognize me as anything but the pagan husband her father and her most hated enemy forced her to marry."

"We are all aware of her displeasure," the Emperor said, taking a drink of his wine. "But she must swallow her pride to do God's work and obey her father's wishes."

"Nothing would make me happier than to see my wife content with a child in her arms," Rollo admitted. "But I will not force her into it."

"No woman regrets their child," Princess Ursula insisted, placing a hand on her belly. "It is our greatest honor and singular pleasure in this life."

"Well said Princess," Count Odo agreed, raising his cup. "Perhaps the princess would be happier with a child."

"I am sure she would be," the Emperor assured. "But in order for her to be happy, you must insist on sharing her bed, Count Rollo."

"Indeed, she may even be planning a divorce," Odo interjected. "Since the marriage was not consummated she has legal grounds to do so."

"I respect my wife, and her decisions," Rollo said, setting his cup down. "If she does not want me, though it is our destiny, then there is nothing that I can do. It is up to God."

"I see," the Emperor said, drinking from his cup. "I am fortunate that my daughter's husband treats her with such respect and kindness."

"The princess is very lucky for such fortune," Count Gerau commented. "She is just as spirited as we have heard in The Lowlands. Surely a husband such as yourself can match such spirit?"

"We have heard so many things about your prowess in battle, Count Rollo," Princess Ursula spoke up. "Such a warrior must have a strong and willful wife."

"It is true," Rollo smiled. "I find myself always surprised and on my toes when I am with my wife."

"Perhaps, if I may be so bold," the Emperor interjected, leaning toward Rollo, placing a hand on his arm. "You could find some way to convince her of your prowess in other areas?"

Rollo simply smiled, nodding his understanding. He could see the cross look on Count Odo's face and the amusement on Count Gerau and Princess Ursula's faces as he chuckled with the Emperor. He was in good spirits, despite his daughter's early departure and his fascination with Rollo was endless. Soon the conversation had left Gisla behind and Rollo spoke to the Emperor of vast fjords in his homeland and the ships that were being built for his armies. He spoke of Viking stories and sagas and the expanse of the river to the north. Count Odo had dismissed himself at this point, leaving the four of them to talk of far off lands and distant rumors.

Rollo learned much from Count Gerau and Princess Ursula's description of The Lowlands and their home in the north. He learned of the Dutch and their close ties with the German lords and he also learned that his old home, Kategat, was not as far from The Lowlands as Rollo believed. Princess Ursula's description of her travels, from The Lowlands to Rome and then to Frankia for her marriage, fascinated Rollo. It was getting late when the Emperor finally excused himself, each of his guests leaving him to his privacy. Rollo bid farewell to Gerau and Ursula, making his way down the corridor toward the staircase leading to the second floor. The kings suites on the upper floors were lavish, multiple guest rooms and chambers for royalty. Even Gisla's old chambers were on this floor.

As Rollo approached the stairway he saw a figure sitting on them, hunched in a hooded cloak. He stopped at the top, looking down at the hooded person who had not bothered to look up at him. When he went to lean down, to touch their shoulder, the figure rose and turned, Rollo taking a few steps back.

"Hello again Rollo," Athelstan said, removing his hood. The glow about his face was just as bright as it had been weeks ago. Rollo, however, just stared in disbelief, rubbing his eyes before reaching out to touch Athelstan. His hand grasped the monk's shoulder and a smile spread across his face.

"What are you doing here again, Athelstan?" Rollo asked, looking about the corridor. "It has been many weeks."

"I wanted to check up on you," he admitted, a smile across his lips. "You seem to be finding your place amongst the Franks but your wife is still distant. Why?"

"You chose to show up at the most convenient times," Rollo replied, looking over the mystical monk. "Tell me, why are you truly here?"

"I told you before," Athelstan responded, placing a hand on Rollo's upper arm. "I am here to help you."

"I do not need your help," Rollo said, nodding. "You need not leave heaven to help me."

"It is my mission," Athelstan insisted, looking about. "This palace, your position, and your wealth are all important for the future of this kingdom, and many others."

"That is vague," Rollo prodded, wrapping his arm around Athelstan's shoulders. "Come, tell me more. Let us drink and talk again as we had done when you were of the living."

"I cannot," Athelstan said, looking up at his friend. "I am only here to tell you that soon these quiet times will be over. Prepare yourself Rollo."

"For what?" he asked, sure he knew the answer.

"King Ragnar is coming," Athelstan said, a soft echo within the hall.

"I am ready," Rollo assured, letting go of the monk, looking down at him as he turned to look at Rollo.

"Do not underestimate your enemy," Athelstan warned, patting Rollo's shoulder. "I will visit again in time." Athelstan now turned to leave but Rollo remembered something, his eyes going wide.

"Wait," Rollo said, reaching out to grab Athelstan's shoulder. Athelstan stopped, looking over his shoulder at the curious count. "My wife," Rollo said, looking about the corridor quickly. "Did you visit her as well? She spoke of a monk by the hearth in our chamber…"

"Ah," Athelstan grinned, a knowing look on his face. "I did."

"Because of your visit she believes that God is displeased with her actions, with the way she has approached our marriage," Rollo admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Is this true?"

"God has plans for you and your bride," Athelstan assured, turning from him again. "I will speak to you again." Rollo watched in awe as the monk descended the stairs, the darkening staircase engulfing him until he was completely gone and no trace of his existence left.

Rollo only sighed, shaking his head at the elusive spirit. Surely he had more important things to tend to than Rollo's married life. As Rollo made his way down the stairs and into the second floor hall, he saw the fireplace in the hearth still burning. He looked about but saw no servants, the fire creating a golden orb of warmth around the plush benches and chairs surrounding it. If Rollo hadn't heard the sniffling he'd have walked on, his eyes growing wide as he approached. There, sitting in front of the fire wrapped in her fur shawl and shivering was a crying Gisla. The second she noticed Rollo approaching she wiped away her tears, squaring her jaw as she stared into the flames. Rollo didn't hesitate as he walked around the large bench and knelt in front of her, his hands grabbing up her cold and quivering fingers.

"I am sorry," he said, pulling her hands into his warm palms. "I did not mean to take so long. Why are you crying?"

"I am not," she replied, her eyes still focused on the fire. "I could not sleep so I left our rooms to get some air."

"Your tears are fresh and your eyes are swollen," he whispered, squeezing her hands again. "Please tell me what is wrong."

"I cannot," she said, looking at him now. "For if I did we would both be doomed."

Rollo's eyebrows shot up in surprise, moving to the bench to sit next to her. He wasn't expecting her to move herself to lean against his chest, nor did he expect her hands to grasp his shirt and pull herself closer to him. He just wrapped his arm around her, leaning back onto the bench as she lay against him. They both watched the fire for a moment, Rollo's arm sliding down her side to drape over her hip. She sighed when he did this, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against his chest. He couldn't help but smile at this. He knew she could be stubborn and willful but he did enjoy this about her- she was his equal in this sense.

"I still want to know," Rollo insisted. "Tell me everything, no secrets."

She sighed again, looking up at his face for a moment before kissing his lips gently, pulling away from him and standing up. "Come," she insisted. "Let us speak in our chamber."

"I wish you would just tell me," he said, taking her hand and standing over her. "But come, let us go our room. Here you can tell me everything that bothers you."

"Is it not obvious?" she asked, taking his hand. He laced his fingers with hers and led her down the hall toward their corridor, the guard coming into view. He bowed and opened the doors, shutting them with a thump behind the couple. Once inside Gisla slipped off her fur, tossing it on the bench and moving toward the closet. Rollo just sighed, watching her disappear as he slipped off his boots and jewels, setting them on the table before pulling off his layers of shirts. When he was finally down to nothing but his velvet leggings, Gisla emerged from the closet, dressed in a thin white gown, her hair falling over her shoulders loosely.

Rollo couldn't help but stare at his wife, her young and curvy body not at all hidden from him under this thin garment. She just smiled at him, nervously wrapping her arms around her stomach. Rollo just sat on the edge of the large bed now, watching her curiously. She had not answered him yet and no matter what she did, or didn't wear, he would not be distracted. He simply smiled, patting the bed next to him. Gisla wandered over, watching him closely as she did. She then sat down next to him, briefly looking over his face before falling back onto the covers. Her hair was spread out around her and breasts peaked through her linen gown; she looked very appealing to him like this but he knew he had to resist. He just grinned down at her, turning himself and laying on his side to look at her face.

"So, what were you crying about?" he asked, his fingers tracing down her arm and forearm. He could see the goosebumps forming on her skin, his fingers lingering on her palm, tracing small circles. She only looked at him, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied his face. She then shrugged, looking at the ceiling. Rollo smirked now, rolling so that he was on his hands and knees over her, making her look into his eyes. "Why?" he repeated, his hand going to wipe away a stray hair behind her ear.

"It was nothing," Gisla insisted. "I had simply let my emotions get the better of me. My own thoughts had gotten me all worked up; father's words were harsh."

"He treats you as his property," Rollo said, his arm going to her hip as she turned onto her side to look into his eyes. "Is that what upsets you?"

"Usually," she whispered, looking down at his bare chest, her eyes roaming his tattoos. "Please tell me we can start our training soon."

"What do you plan on using it for?" he asked, pushing another lock of hair over her ear.

"What is it normally used for?" she asked, smirking slightly. "To kill." Her eyes found his now, searching them for his approval.

"Who?" Rollo whispered, moving closer to her, his face inches from her own.

She bit her lip now, looking away. He could tell she was still hiding something and he wished she'd just be honest. He wasn't sure if she was treating him as a fool or if she was sincerely afraid of telling him why she was so upset or why she wanted to truly learn to fight.

"Who?" he asked again, this time cupping her cheek in his hand. She looked at him with such fear in her eyes that he couldn't help but pull her close to him, wrapping his arms around her body. She began to shake now and he could feel her warm tears soaking his bare chest, her sniffles and shuddering making his mind turn dark. He was angry that his new bride was so sad and that he didn't' know how to fix it. What was worse was that she felt so trapped, so horribly restricted and he could see it in her face, feel it in her touch. When she had started to calm down, her body becoming still and her tears stopping, Rollo leaned back and kissed her forehead, his hand trailing up her side slowly.

"I wish I could make you happy," he whispered into her ear, his hands resting gently on her lower back. "I wish things were different, Gisla."

"They are different," she whispered, her hands going to cradle his face as she stared up at him. "So different and I am afraid to enjoy it. I am afraid to love my husband and I am afraid of what will happen to me and my people if you don't succeed in defending Paris. When we were first married I would have never, ever, been afraid of loving you. I never would have considered it an option. Now it is all different and I am trapped; trapped in choices made for me. It is all so overwhelming." She was somewhat hysterical now, her eyes wide and her voice trembling.

"You worry over nothing," Rollo insisted, pulling her so that she was laying on top of him, his eyes searching hers as her hair fell over his face and neck. "You need not fear my defeat. I am destined to defend Paris from my brother. And if you are truly unhappy, and want to make your own choice in this marriage, I will accept that." He kissed her lips gently, her lips trembling still as he stroked her lower back. "But," he whispered, his breath hot on her lips. "I wish you'd reconsider; we are destined to be together."

"Count Odo," she blurted, her eyes narrowing. "That is why I was crying."

"What did he do?" Rollo's eyes were dark, his hands tight around her waist. He knew Odo's desire for Gisla and he would be damned if any man were to dare lay a hand on her.

"I was sitting by the fire, trying to reign in my emotions, when he came strolling through," she bit her lip now, her eyes averted. "He was being kind, friendly even and it frightened me." She lay her cheek on his chest, her lips kissing his collar gently. She then sighed, her hands sprawled over his biceps. "He was telling me that I did not deserve to be stuck with a pagan for a husband. Told me that a divorce could be possible, despite my father's wishes. He said he'd help and he…" her voice trailed off and he could feel more tears on his chest.

Rollo's mind was reeling at this point, the possibilities of what Odo could have said or done to her flashing in his mind. He couldn't help but hold her tighter, his hands trailing up her back to press her tightly against him. He could hear her soft sobs and her sniffling, his hands stroking her back gently to calm her. She then raised her head to look at him, fresh trails of tears pouring down her face. The look in her eyes was so broken, so frightened, that it angered him. She must have noticed because the tears began to flow even heavier and her eyes averted from his, shame in her cheeks. He gently cupped her chin now, forcing her to look at him. Her dark brown eyes were awash in sadness and regret.

"Tell me wife," he whispered, his voice a mixture of fear and anger. "Did he lay hands on you?"

She watched his face for a moment, her eyes searching his and then she began sobbing, grasping his shoulders and holding him close. The once strong and willful princess that he had married was so frightened and weak in his arms and he wanted more than anything to know why.

"He…he…" she began between sobs, Rollo sitting up so that she was straddling his waist, his arms around her still. He watched her closely, his eyes softened to her pleas and sobs. It was only after a few minutes of holding one another did Gisla finally tell him the full story.

"He said he'd help secure the divorce," she began, nuzzling her nose in the crook of his neck. "Told me he could persuade my father that it would be in our best interest to divorce you, imprison you, use your ideas and defenses against your brother, and then execute you as the pagan you are." Tears were rolling down her cheeks but her voice was steady, her lips brushing against his collar bone as she spoke. "He said he could do all of this in return for one concession; I would have to marry him."

"Gisla I-."

"Rollo, he kissed me," she cried, her hands grasping at his arms. "He put his repulsive lips on me and I hit him." Her eyes were wide as she looked at him, her words fast and panicked. "Now I am afraid he will use his power to try and hurt you."

"He kissed you?" Rollo asked, his eyebrow raised. He wasn't sure what the big deal was. A kiss is just a way to show interest where he is from but to touch another man's wife, without her consent, is something Rollo could not swallow. He cupped her face again, looking her straight in the eye. "He kissed you and you hit him?"

"Y-yes," she whispered, averting her eyes. She then brought her hand to his face where he could see some bruising forming. It was small, swollen, but it was still there. He immediately took it in his hand, cradling it gently before kissing it.

"He will not speak to you again," Rollo vowed, his eyes finding hers. "Do you hear me? He will not touch you. You are not your father's property nor his. You are not even my property, do you understand Gisla?" Rollo wasn't sure how to make her understand. He wanted her to be happy, even if that meant they were not to be together. "You can chose whatever path you would like."

There was a look in her eye now, her face contorted in fear and confusion. She placed a hand on each side of his face now, her eyes locked to his. He wasn't sure what she wanted, or if he would be happy with it, but he could accept her choice. With or without her, he was still a Duke, a rich and powerful man in Frankia. He could never go back to his old life, his old ways, and her leaving him would not change his brother's mind about that.

"I want you," she finally said, her lips quivering as he watched her. "I don't want another husband. I want you."

"Then you can have me," he breathed, capturing her lips with his. Their lips immediately battled for supremacy, her tongue darting out to touch his as she passionately held him. He couldn't hold himself back anymore. This beautiful woman, who he had been fascinated with from the beginning, had grown to love him and he felt undeserving of that love. He couldn't explain it, his heart fluttering as he touched his neck and shoulders, trailing down his chest to the hem of his pants. She was still astride him when she untied them, her hands timidly searching for what she wanted.

Rollo couldn't hold back anymore, not like this when the most beautiful woman he had ever seen was atop him, trying to innocently explore his body. She would not forget this, nor would he have her forget. She was his world now and anything he could do to make her happy, he would do. He has killed for her and would do so again; he would handle Count Odo tomorrow. Tonight he wanted to enjoy everything his young bride had to offer.

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 **Sorry to disappoint. I was going to do a lemon... a good one... but unfortunately I thought the chapter was a bit long and well, the show kind of cemented it for us all. :D SO... perhaps next time? PLEASE REVIEW! JUST A FEW WORDS IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND.**


	7. Chapter 7

**LEMON...ahem...LEEEEEEEEEMMMMOOOOOOOOON. For those of you unaware, a lemon is ADULT CONTENT. Yes, sexual content. We all enjoyed the little scenes in this past week's episode so here, here's the lemon we all knew was coming. Hopefully you find it tasteful but it is a bit...uhm... stirring? Idk... titillating? Whatever. Check it out. Obviously if you're underage I would prefer you to talk to your parents or watch porn to learn about sex but if you're going to read it, at least review. :D Thanks again to my readers. I will be picking up some pace in the next chapter. MORE ACTION! I plan on this being a 12ish chapter story so we still have a little ways to go. Maybe even more chapters. We shall see. ;) REVIEW!**

 **VIKINGS AND ALL RELATED MATERIAL IS OWNED BY HISTORY CHANNEL. I ONLY OWN THE ORIGINAL PLOT.**

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Rollo lay in bed, the covers draped over his hips as Gisla lay sleeping on his chest. Her hair was spread out over his shoulder and her cheek rested comfortably on his chest. He watched his sleeping wife, her ivory arm draped over his stomach, her breathing soft and steady. He wanted to lay here forever, wrapped in the warmth of his beautiful young wife. The sun had not come up yet, the faint blue rays peaking over the horizon and into their bedchamber. Rollo just lay there, staring at his young bride with such contentment and happiness that it felt as if he were still adrift, asleep in bed dreaming of such comfort.

He stared at the ceiling deep in thought now, remembering his wife's frightened words the night before. Rollo had to decide what to do about their mutual enemy, Count Odo. Rollo wasn't sure what they could do; Odo commanded loyalty from many of the other Frankish lords and he had the ear of the king. What was more, Odo knew more about this city and its people than Rollo could ever hope to learn. What made him most dangerous was the unwavering support of the church and its officials. Many of them still did not trust, nor like, Rollo and his elevated position.

Odo also had strategic advantage; since Rollo had killed off his own warriors weeks ago, he had no troops, save his personal guard and recruits in Normandy, to protect his holdings. His military power was limited, at best. He also knew that Odo could easily maneuver around him within the church and the court to make him look bad, to discredit him in front of everyone. Rollo couldn't afford a scandal or any mistakes and so from now on, he had to be much more careful of his words and actions.

He did, however, possess some advantages. Odo believed him to be a savage, a pagan animal that would betray them the moment it was most convenient. He could use this to his advantage to manipulate Odo's actions; without Odo realizing what he was doing, he could freely maneuver to remove him from power. If it weren't for the complicated rules and procedures of Christian court-life, he would throw the man from the city ramparts and watch his skull explode upon the rocks below. He had dared to touch his wife, something that boiled Rollo's blood. He instinctively pulled Gisla closer, holding her tighter. He could hear a soft sigh of comfort escape her lips as she adjusted, her breathing returning to a light snore.

What Odo had done to her and suggested went against everything that the count had expressed to Rollo. Odo had made Rollo believe that he was on the new duke's side, assisting in teaching him the language of the Franks. He also assisted in the dress, manner, and responsibilities of a Duke, something Rollo could never have found out without him. At a certain level, Rollo felt disappointed; he had considered the count to be the closest friend he had in Frankia. They enjoyed training the troops, making defensive plans, and drinking together; Odo had treated him with more respect than many of the Franks. It was then that it came to him, a smirk spread across his face.

Gisla must have stirred at this, feeling his arm cradle her closer to his naked body. He looked down at her to see her eyes blinking, trying to adjust to the morning light. When she fully realized her position he could see her blush. Her leg was draped over his hip and leg, her bare chest pressed against his side and her most intimate parts exposed to his prying eyes. She grabbed the blanket and covered herself now, a slight shiver running up her spine. Rollo just smiled, kissing the top of her head before pulling the large fur blanket up over the both of them. Gisla just chuckled, her hand spread across his bare chest.

"Good morning," she whispered, kissing his chest gently. "Did you sleep well, husband?"

"Very," he admitted, feeling the melancholy of leaving the bed already, even though he had made no attempt to do so. "How did you sleep, wife?"

"Well," she admitted, tracing circles on his chest with her fingers. This sent a chill up Rollo's spine, his hand stroking the small of her back, the soft bare skin warming at his touch. He could feel the heat rising in her cheeks again, his eyes roaming her reddening face. He then smirked, moving so they were both covered, head to toe, in fur. He then rolled onto his side, looking her directly in the eyes, the dim sunlight barely peeking under the covers.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his arm draped over her hip, massaging her skin. "Was it too much?"

"I'm fine," she whispered, cuddling up against his chest, her lips caressing his collar and neck. "You didn't hurt me."

"Good," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. They lay there a moment, holding one another within the warm cocoon of fur. Their breathing seemed to be in sync, their heartbeats rushing at the chance of another encounter. It was only when Gisla propped herself up on her elbow and moved over top of him, straddling his waist, that they realized their attraction. It was Rollo's hands that went to her hips, the blanket falling down around them so that she balanced above him completely exposed. He could tell she felt slightly embarrassed, her hands on his chest, exploring the contours of his muscles. It was only when his hands went down to grasp the soft flesh of her bottom that she blushed, letting out a soft sigh.

Rollo couldn't resist now and sat up, their faces only a breath away from one another. He couldn't help but stare at her flushed cheeks and hesitant eyes, the way she explored his chest and shoulders with her hands making him feel more aroused by the second. She must have noticed his fascination because she blushed brighter, her hands gripping his shoulders as he kneaded and massaged her flesh. It was when he ground his growing erection against her backside that she gasped, covering her mouth and looking away. He just chuckled at this, his hands trailing up over her hips and toned silhouette, caressing the swells of her breasts with his knuckles.

"Ah," she gasped, her hands gripping his shoulders as his palms opened up over her exposed breasts. She couldn't help but arch her back, his fingers kneading the soft flesh with patience, watching her nipples peak with excitement over his touch. She cried out when his tongue flicked out over the swell of her breast, trailing over her soft skin and up to her collar. She bit her lip as he sucked, his tongue dancing gently over chest and between her breasts, leaving a warm trail of moisture. He flicked his tongue roughly over her skin now, catching her off guard and making her arch against him, her lips parting in quiet bliss.

"Princess," he whispered against her skin, his hands still gently holding her breasts, his thumbs teasing the swollen peaks. "You're enjoying this…"

"Don't tease," she begged, her lips finding his neck and her tongue darting out in absent-minded pleasure. "Please…"

He laughed now, the sound coming out as a low growl when she started suckling on his neck. She was much bolder this morning, her fingertips digging into his shoulders as he teased her nipples, the wetness between her thighs becoming more and more evident as the heat rose between them. When one of his hands left her breasts he could hear her sigh in protest, her bottom lip tucked under her top as he leaned down, flicking his tongue over the exposed nipple. She shivered at the attention, her eyes closing in absentminded pleasure. He couldn't help it as his free hand trailed down her stomach to her hip, holding her against him as he flicked his tongue back and forth over the hard peak. She was moaning now, her arousal evident as his erection gently prodded against her warm center. When she ground her hips against his, pressing against him wantonly, he squeezed her breast, drawing the other into his mouth hungrily. He licked and sucked, her moans becoming louder and her breath becoming harsh as he massaged her bottom, grinding her arousal against his hardened member.

"Rollo," she gasped, his tongue roughly teasing as he sucked, making her involuntarily jerk away from him when it felt particularly good. The rough texture of his beard brushed against her soft skin, making her that much more aroused as his hands wrapped around her hips to hold her firmly against him as his lips explored her exposed flesh. He sucked and licked, his mouth roaming from one breast to the other, making her nipples peak at his every touch. When he had drawn her other nipple into his mouth she let out a surprised squeak, her hand instantly going to cover her open mouth. He had surprised her, aroused her, and caught her completely off guard with his pleasurable attentions.

Then he felt it, her hands trailing down his chest and over his abdomen, her fingertips caressing the tone of his muscles. He shivered as she did so, feeling that much more desperate to touch her, make her submit to him completely. As her hands trailed over is stomach, his tongue darted out hungrily, capturing her nipple between his lips. He licked and sucked before gently squeezing the peak between his teeth. The second he did this her eyes flew open in surprise, her fingertips scraping over his abdomen as her body shook from pleasure. He squeezed again, this time allowing his tongue to dart over the pinched nipple. This made her jerk away from him, inadvertently making him pull her nipple with his teeth.

"Rollo!" she gasped, her face burning bright red. He let go now, his lips finding hers in a crushing kiss. She grasped his shoulders again, her breasts pressed against his bare chest as their tongues battled. Rollo couldn't help but tease her, his tongue darting out against her own, languidly exploring her mouth in desperate need to be connected. She reciprocated enthusiastically, her arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders, holding him close as they devoured one another. It was only when Gisla pulled away, biting his bottom lip, did he feel the desperate need to be inside her, to feel how much she wanted him.

She rested her cheek against his chest now, breathing heavily, her lips trailing over his skin as she sat there. She could feel his full arousal beneath her, prodding gently, and he could tell she was trying to compose herself. His arms were now draped around her hips, her hands grasping his biceps gently. After she had caught her breath she looked up at him, her cheeks flushed with her arousal.

"It is so warm," she whispered, kissing the tattoo on his chest. "You're so intense; it overwhelms me."

"Is that bad?" he asked, kissing her forehead. He then gently thrust against her, pressing himself against her warm and swollen arousal. She bit her lip at this, grasping his shoulders and then capturing his lips passionately. When she pulled away he watched her eyes, both of them just staring in admiration at each other; he couldn't help but smile, pushing a few stray strands of hair over her ear and shoulder. She blushed before resting her head in the crook of his neck, slowly lowering herself against his erection. He bit his lip, the warm and wet slickness of her feminine folds engulfing him. It was still so tight, her face contorted in curious but cautious enlightenment as he entered her fully. She throbbed around him, her fingertips scratching at his shoulders and back as she held herself over him. He could hear her soft gasps of pain as he pushed himself fully into her, his lips finding her neck and suckling gently. When she began to relax on top of him, his lips trailing over her neck and shoulders, he moved, gently pulling himself out and then thrusting into her, eliciting a loud moan from her quivering lips. He repeated the motion, finding a rhythm that worked, his hips bouncing her as she rode him. With every upward thrust she rolled her hips, her eyes closing in pleasure as he lay back down, her hands pressed against his chest. His hands held her hips, moving with her motions as she squeezed and flexed around him.

"Ah," she moaned out as his hips thrusted upward again, a smirk spreading across her face as he rocked his hips again, stimulating her in the same way. He couldn't help but watch her every facial expression, her lips parting every time he thrust home, her breasts bouncing with every motion. The soft moans and sighs that escaped her lips as he entered her over and over elicited an animalistic growl from Rollo's lips, his hands gripping her hips and pulling on her roughly. She gasped at this, her face contorted in shock and pain. When he noticed this he loosened his grip on her hips, sitting up so they were face to face again, her eyes finding his in desperate need. They stared at one another as Rollo adjusted, his hips finding the rhythm that suited them both. Gisla quickly obliged, adjusting herself over him before joining him in his motions, her eyes still locked onto his with intense surprise and pleasure.

"Rollo," she whispered as he kissed her neck, her hands desperately finding his hair, running her fingers over his head and tangling his hair between them.

"Gisla," he answered, his lips trailing down her neck and shoulder, licking small circles against her skin as he found her breast. He licked and kissed it, flicking his tongue across it before finding her hardened nipple. She arched her back at the touch of his tongue, her eyes closing instantaneously as he teased and sucked. "Gisla," he moaned against her skin, his hot breath sending a chill down her spine.

"Oh," she whispered in his ear, her head falling against his shoulder as he quickened the pace of the rhythm, his tongue trailing up from her nipple to her neck again. His beard must have tickled her cause she giggled, pulling his hair so that he looked up at her face. There was a slight smirk on her lips, her other hand going to his chest as she took the lead, moving her hips so that she was riding him, his body still and stiff as she did so.

His eyes closed in response, his hot breath on her chest as he rested his forehead against her shoulder. She was deciding the pace and the level of his pleasure, her toned body flush against his as sweat started forming on their exposed skin. He didn't know how long he could hold it in now, her hips working his at a steady and painfully pleasurable pace. She noticed his desperate need to release, the pace slowing until he flicked his tongue out over her collar, kissing her neck gently. She stopped at this, capturing his face between her clammy hands. She watched his face as her hips rolled, his member throbbing desperately within her, making her bite her lip with pleasure.

"So good," he moaned, wrapping his arms completely around her. She smirked, letting go of his face and gripping his shoulders again, his teeth nipping at the lobe of her ear gently. "So warm, so wet," he continued, suckling on her neck now. His tongue darted out desperately to taste the salty sweat on her neck, the sweet smell of her arousal taking over his senses.

"So hard," she moaned, her body quivering as he thrust into her. "Rollo," she pleaded, desperately sinking her nails into the skin of his shoulders. He enjoyed this the most, her desperate pleading for him to release, to give her everything he had. He wanted to let go, to let his seed spill and fill her womb but he didn't want to acknowledge defeat; not yet. One of his arms tightened around her waist as his other went to the bed, quickly switching their positions. He was now kneeling over her, his eyes watching hers closely as his hands went to her thighs, squeezing them as he thrust into her again. She cried out in pain, her nails sinking further into his shoulders, her face reflecting the surprise and pain she felt. He kept himself still, her soft center readjusting around him as she became more comfortable, prying her fingers from his flesh. Her eyes went wide when she trailed them down over his chest, blood streaking over his shoulders. She must have felt guilty for hurting him, adjusting so she could see the damage.

"Your shoulders," she whispered, kissing his collar. "I'm sorry." She then did something he did not expect; she flicked her tongue out over the fresh wounds, the warm liquid smeared on her lips as she tried to clean it. Her tongue followed the trail of her fingers, licking up the drying red liquid. He watched her curiously, her tongue darting out over his other shoulder now, teasing the skin she was trying to gently to clean. When she was done she leaned back, her hands gently spread across his ribs just below his arms. He almost laughed aloud at the site of her innocent face adorned with blood stains.

She had some smeared across her lips and on her cheek, the smudges crimson red and drying. He just grinned at her, leaning down and licking the streak that was on her cheek. She blushed brightly now, a soft smile spreading across her face. He just smiled back, his hands finding hers, lacing their fingers together near her ears as he thrust into her one more time. Her lips parted with a pleasurable gasp and she squeezed his hands roughly. He enjoyed this view, her complete submission as he claimed her love; only she could satisfy him and it was Gisla who chose it.

As he picked up the rhythm, her hips rolling in sync, he could see the pure pleasure on her face; the way her cheeks flushed and her eyes dilated made Rollo smirk. She moaned and purred softly, her fingernails pressing into his hand. He knew her release was eminent, like his, and he wanted it more than anything. He released her hands now, moving one of his to her hip and gripping it firmly, the other to the bed, holding himself above her. She may not be frail but she was smaller than him and he dare not hurt her with his weight. Her hands immediately searched his body, one grasping his thigh the other his neck, begging for release with every thrust and effect grasp.

"Now," she demanded, her hand going from his neck to the back of his head, pulling his lips to hers in desperate need. He simply moaned, biting her bottom lip gently as he thrust, pulling away from her lips slowly. She sighed in response, her hand grasping his thick brown hair as she begged for more with her pleading brown eyes. He captured her lips again, repositioning himself mid thrust, eliciting a surprised but pleasurable growl from Gisla.

He had to finish, he couldn't hold back anymore. He was now balanced on his shins, his hands going to her lower back, pulling her up with him as he leaned back, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. Her hand was still tangled in his hair, the other gripping his shoulder gently; she wasn't sure what to think of this new position as she straddled his hips. He just smiled, keeping one hand on her lower back, the other in her hair. He then pressed his forehead to hers and began to slowly thrust into her. She watched him with wonder as he hit every spot, making her eyes close and her lips seek his hesitantly searching for his approval.

He kissed her gently, his hand moving down her back to her bottom, controlling her position over him. She must have approved because her tongue darted out to touch his, her need to search him out becoming more desperate. He had to finish now, he needed to release inside of her and show her what it felt like to be his woman; what it truly meant. He went faster now, grasping at her hair as his tongue explored her mouth. He could feel her quivering, her body responding to his accurate thrusts and soft ministrations. He could feel himself beginning to pulse, her own arousal throbbing against him as he drove into her. It was when his hand came around her hip to stroke her soft center that her whole body went stiff and her mind blank. He continued his exploration, stroking her gently as he kissed down her neck to her chest, licking her nipple roughly.

She moaned loudly at this, her hands gripping the back of his neck and his hip as he thrust one last time, her body exploding in pleasurable shivers. He could feel her orgasm around him, his own washing over him with heated ferocity. He grasped her hip roughly, his body going stiff as her orgasm shook around him. His mind went blank and he let out a fierce groan, something so basal that he thought for sure it would frighten her. However, she was riding the wave of her own release, her loud moaning and gasps for air mirroring the pleasure that Rollo felt. When they had both finished, their breathing raged and their body's slick with sweat, they smiled, looking at one another with bashful, and somewhat giddy emotion. Rollo couldn't help but push the hair out of her face, her own hands finding his neck and forehead. As she pushed the locks away from his eyes he could see something there, something in her dark eyes that wasn't there before.

He slowly moved off of her, pulling himself out with a soft sigh. She bit her lip now, looking away from the sight of his exposed self as he moved from between her legs. She was about to cover herself when he moved around her, laying on his back and pulling her flush against him. She draped her arm over his chest and rested her palm over his shoulder, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Her head was against his chest, his heartbeat loud and quick. She simply kissed his chest, her other hand coming up behind his arm to trace circles around the fresh claw marks in his shoulder. He just draped an arm over her hip, his other comfortably nestled under her and around her back.

As they lay there, their breathing becoming calmer by the minute, Rollo couldn't help but smile. He probably looked ridiculous and she was probably wondering what he was so happy about but it didn't matter. He had everything he wanted now. The beautiful princess was now his devoted wife and lover, his title gave him lands and influence, and his wit to be able to learn the Frank's language made him an ideal ally for The Emperor. All he needed now was for Gisla's belly to grow with his child; only this would put him beyond happiness. He saw her staring at him now and he looked down at her curiously.

"Why are you smiling like that?" she asked, a smile forming on her lips. "It can't have been so good. I am a novice at all of this and I don't think I was-."

"It was," he interrupted, kissing her lips gently. He then pulled away, the smile back on his face. "I was just thinking of what this all could mean."

She raised an eyebrow at him, her eyes drifting to the wall as she lay her head back down on his chest. His heart was still loud and beating fast, her hand coming down from his shoulder to his chest, stroking it softly. She then found his hand on her hip, lacing her fingers with his and resting them on his stomach. Her face was a little reddened but her body was back to the milky white he'd come to adore, his fingers squeezing her hand.

"I was thinking of you," he said with a nod. "About what consummation means for us."

"You mean your position?" she asked, her lips grazing his chest.

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "That may be part of it but I was thinking of what it means for us, together."

She looked up at him now, her fingers squeezing his as she studied his face. He captured her lips again, that curious face she made making him all the happier. He didn't understand this feeling but he liked it, something new and exciting he could share with someone he thought he'd never understand. Someone who was his equal that he knew he could share anything, and everything, with. It almost repulsed him the way he desperately wanted to keep her here, locked up for only him to see, only him to enjoy. He hated that he felt so possessive at that moment and she noticed the change in his mood, her eyes widening in confusion.

"Did I do something?" she asked, sitting up on her elbow.

"No," he assured, pulling her against him again, kissing her forehead. "No, my thoughts were just swimming around too fast. I was thinking of what it meant for us if you were to get pregnant," he said, squeezing her hip. "And then the thought of protecting you and our child came to me and I began to get angry. This…" he paused, looking for the words. "This situation with Count Odo must be resolved."

Rollo was about to turn over, to look at her and ask her what it is she wanted him to do with Odo. At the very least she could decide his fate. Gisla, however, had different plans. She quickly sat up and straddled him, her hair falling in her face as she looked down at him. When she pushed her hair over her shoulder, to one side, her face was a mixture of determination and fearlessness. He was unsure what she was doing, her hands going to either side of his head as she leaned down to look in his eyes. Her face was inches from his as she stared at him, the same burning look piercing his soul.

"We will have a child," she said, her eyes searching his. "A beautiful boy who has the proud lineage of both his parents. He will come to bend his enemies to his will and the first obstacle is Odo."

"Tell me what you want," Rollo whispered, his lips brushing hers.

"He will die," Gisla said, nodding her head. A smile then spread over her lips, her hand going to his chest as she spoke. "Such a wicked man will get what is coming to him. He will pay for his sins and God will deliver the punishment in the form of Ragnar Lothrbok."

"What do you mean?" Rollo spat, his eyes narrowing. "I will kill the man who has insulted my wife."

"Please," she said, shaking her head. "Listen to me and understand. I am trying to help you."

"How? By going to my brother behind my back?" Rollo asked, his temper starting to rise. "I am your husband. I am the Protector of Paris. I will kill Odo."

"Listen to me!" she said, pressing her hands to his chest, thrusting him back against the pillows. His eyes went wide in both shock and awe and then they narrowed dangerously.

"Why?" he asked, his hands going to her hips.

"Because a Christian noble cannot kill another in cold blood," she said, her eyes pleading for him to understand. "You will be killed. Killing another man is against our Christian faith and my father's law."

"So you'd ask my brother to do it?" he asked, his fingers grasping her a little too hard. She winced but pounded a fist into his chest, making him growl in protest.

"No, you fool!" she said, placing her hands on both sides of his face. "We will trick Odo into danger so that your brother's forces kill him." She then smirked, leaning down and kissing his lips hungrily. He reciprocated, his arm going around her waist but then she pulled away. "Or he could be captured and tortured. Perhaps he'd even lose some limbs and organs." Her eyes were alight with the possibility and Rollo couldn't stop from staring at her in admiration. His wife was more like him than she'd like to admit and he loved every bit of it. She was going to be a fierce shield maiden; he only hoped his training wouldn't come back to take some of his organs.

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 **STEEEEAMY. REVIEW. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello again devoted readers and new readers. :D Another chapter. No lemon but it is developing into some action. This chapter is setting up the situation and the problems both Gisla and Rollo are dealing with as individuals. Pretty fun chapter. Lots of tid-bits of history thrown in, as usual. I like to look up the actual person and his deeds. For those of you who don't know, Rollo's descendants, The Normans, conquer Britain and are basically the new royalty. Obviously they married into the existing but it was a heavy influence on English culture. :D THE MORE YOU KNOW... ha Enjoy the chapter. ;) Please review.**

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"The last towers have been erected, chains and defenses in place," Count Odo said, looking between the Emperor and the council. Rollo was seated to the right of the Emperor, the council chamber alight with bright spring sunlight. The past few weeks had been bliss. It had been nearly a month and Easter was fast approaching them. The snows were thawing completely and the warmth of spring was at their hearth once more.

"How are the ships coming along, Duke Rollo?" the Emperor asked, looking over at his son-in-law. Over the past weeks the Emperor had become very fond of his new in-law, inviting him to dine at the most intimate of times and asking, quite enthusiastically, about Rollo's marriage. He obliged, telling him all he dare, the Emperor more than happy to listen. It seemed that the more Rollo told him of his old life, the Northmen, and their culture, the closer the Emperor became to his new son. The council, and the court, had taken notice and many of them had come to Rollo for favors or influence. It was odd for Rollo to entertain such guests at his table, in his hall, but Gisla did seem to enjoy it.

Usually she was bustling around their chambers, ordering servants to prepare grand meals for their guests and coordinating household affairs. She seemed to enjoy bustling to the tailors and jewelers and reveled in sending invitations to random wealthy nobles and family. Rollo had attended so many meals and banquets in the past month that he knew he had gained weight. What was most fascinating is that for these past weeks, Gisla had been going out, early before mass, walking about town and into the forest. She even commanded his personal guard for protection when she went out.

"Duke Rollo?" the Emperor asked again, snapping Rollo from his daze.

"Ah," Rollo replied, looking to the Emperor. "I am sorry, my mind was occupied with thoughts of the impending battle. Our ships are nearly done. Only a few more weeks and we will have the fleet we need to deter the Northmen."

"Excellent!" the Emperor smiled, patting his arm. "I am glad to hear that all of our defenses and strategies are going according to plan. Tell me, Duke Rollo, how are our warriors? Do they meet standards?"

"Yes," Rollo nodded, looking about the table. "The warriors you have provided are well trained and well-armed. Having them available, as a standing army, will greatly increase our chances of defeating the Northmen."

"I hope that the training you've provided makes our warriors more adept to the threat of the Northmen," Count Christoph said, his white hair adorned with more golden and silver bangles. "You assured us of their superiority."

"You did require our grain, our supplies, and our men to accomplish your standing army," the man with the brown hair and eyes said, his jaw squared. Rollo had found out, since he and Odo had solicited their help, that this man's name was Duke Claud of Burgundy. He was a young man but wise, stern for his years; the only living son of his famous father who went to war with Charlemagne as a simple squire.

"And it is much appreciated," Count Odo assured, looking at the Emperor. "We have supplied and maintained our standing army over the past few months, using them as both a labor force and a military force. With spring already here and the ice beginning to melt, it is only a matter of time before the pagans come back in force."

"So, what is the plan, Count Odo?" the Emperor asked, his eyes finding his faithful servant. "What do we do when the Northmen return?"

"We've set up several relay stations along the length of the Seine," Count Odo assured. "Each guard tower will have four guards posted to it every day, in shifts, until The Northmen are spotted."

"When they are," Rollo continued, pointing to the map on the large wooden table. "We will disperse our reserve troops from the six barracks and forts resurrected near the banks. We will also deploy, from their base just outside the city, our fleet of ships. It will take them only a few days to reach the mouth of the river where we will face the Northmen head on, stopping them with our chains and blockades."

"And our shores? The lands to the north along the ocean?" asked Count Christoph, his eyes narrowed. "How will you defend them in case these pagans decide to sweep through the countryside?"

"My troops in the north are more than prepared for the attack," Rollo insisted. "They've been given strict instructions."

"What of the siege? Should they get past your defenses? Are we well supplied for that?" asked Duke Claud, his fingertips drumming on the table.

"Have we prepared for such a possibility?" the Emperor asked, looking from Duke Claud to Count Odo, his eyes narrowed.

"Yes," Odo assured. "We've secured enough grain, livestock, and supplies to last us well into winter, should it come to that."

"I have also come up with a battle strategy," Rollo interrupted, pulling out another piece of parchment and presenting it to the Emperor. "It is a set of formations that will, much like the King of Wessex used, use the land to defend the people. We can use their uncoordinated strategies as a defense, an advantage being the surprise of our battle tactics."

"And you are sure these tactics will work against their shield formations?" Count Christoph asked, looking around the table. "I think we are all worried about our troop's effectiveness."

"Do not worry," Rollo assured. "I have supervised every formation and technique. The troops are well prepared and know what to expect from the upcoming battles."

"Ragnar Lothbrok is cunning and creative," Duke Claud said, crossing his arms. "He will have something to counter us, I am sure."

"And we will have something to surprise him," Rollo smirked, pulling out another piece of parchment from the pile. "This is an invention I have come up with that will ensure victory." He held it up, showing the Emperor the design. "It is a sling, a large one that hurls rocks and debris. We've erected ten of them along the city ramparts, all ready to hurl rocks and debris at any invader. We've even come up with a way to set fire to their boats with large flaming balls that can be launched from the city walls."

Rollo now looked about the table, watching the faces of the lords about him, a grin forming on the Emperor's face. Rollo just nodded, setting the paper down and taking his seat. The lords discussed amongst themselves, the Emperor whispering to Count Odo as they did so. Rollo, over the past several weeks, had stayed close to Odo, learning about every one of his plans and dealings, even going so far as to pay some of his wife's handmaids to spy on the Count whenever they could. They were loyal to his wife and he had no fear of them turning.

"It is an excellent plan, Duke Rollo," the Emperor finally said, looking about the table. "I do not think anyone here can argue that."

"Then it is decided?" Odo asked, standing up. "Have we agreed on the plan?"

"I believe it is the best course of action," the Emperor commented, nodding his approval. "Is there anyone who disagrees?" There was silence around the table and then approving nods as the group of men peered around at one another. "Good," the Emperor sighed, standing now. "These war meetings are always so tedious and it is always so tiring." He took a last drink from his goblet before excusing himself, escorted out by his own royal guard.

"Now that we have a plan," Odo said, looking about the room as the doors shut behind the Emperor. "We will need to prepare for the reality of battle. I expect the status and quantity of assets to be accounted for within the next fortnight."

"Surely you've accounted for all your assets already," Count Christoph spat, glaring at Odo. "What other assets are you inquiring about?"

"We've pooled all of your assets," Odo assured. "But what we have not totaled are your personal assets, something that must be accounted for in case the need arises to conscript more soldiers or resources."

"You'd know the total of our assets and leave us blind to your own?" Duke Claud asked, his eyes narrowing on Odo. "Surely you wouldn't take what we have left."

"If the freedom of our Christian brethren depends on your charity, I would hope you'd answer as Christ would," Odo replied, his eyes narrowing on the table around him.

"We have great faith in God and his works," Count Christoph commented, his eyes narrowed. "It is your intentions we do not trust. You stand to gain much if the Northmen are defeated. Much more if you're fully aware of all of our assets. What stops you from taking what we have by force?"

"I work in the name of the Emperor," Odo protested. "And his wishes are what I fulfill. If the Emperor gave the command, I would take my own life."

"So devout," Count Christoph commented. "But we do not believe that the Emperor could withstand you if you were to turn your forces upon him."

"Count Odo is not stupid," Rollo interjected, his eyes narrowed. "He knows what he is able to do and what is best for Paris. He is a man who knows his limits."

"Your faith in the man is admirable," Duke Claud said, looking between them. "But you do not speak for us or our people, Duke Rollo."

"I speak for myself," he replied, his fist pounding on the table. "It is my job, as the husband of Princess Gisla, to protect her and her family. It may not mean much to you but to me it is what is most important."

"We care for the Emperor and his family greatly," Count Christoph said. "It is Count Odo, who has risen to great wealth and power in a very short time, which we do not care for."

"I have come to more wealth and power in a shorter time," Rollo admitted, looking at Count Christoph. "We are in this together."

"And if it came to it," Duke Claud asked, watching Rollo closely. "Would you defend Paris and the Emperor against Count Odo?"

"Such animosity," Count Odo commented, his eyes lazily roaming around the table. "If I wanted to overthrow the Emperor, I would have done it already. Before Duke Rollo arrived, there was nothing in my way."

"I would defend the Emperor," Rollo admitted, standing from his chair. "No matter who my enemy was. I may not be a Frank but it was your emperor who gave me such power and title. I will put it to good use."

Rollo then bowed to the council, excusing himself from the room. The meeting had taken too long already; he had been there since midday and the bells had already rang for mass. Rollo made his way from the council chamber to the first floor corridor, moving into the throne room absentmindedly. He was about to leave when he heard the voice of his wife. He stopped and turned to see her cheerfully chatting with Princess Ursula and Count Gerau. He approached them quickly, a smile on his face as his young wife spotted him. She excused herself from the couple and walked up to him, a soft smile spread across her lips.

"Husband," she said, her eyes searching his. "How was the meeting?"

"Tedious," he admitted, leaning down and kissing her cheek. She blushed slightly and then nodded, her eyes darting toward the royal couple and then back to his face. He understood what she was saying and immediately turned to greet them.

"Cousin," he said with a grin, grasping the count's arm. "It has been a while. How are you?"

"Well," he admitted, his pointed face reflecting the happiness in his eyes. "We have been invited to stay at court until our child has been born."

"We are so grateful to my uncle, the Emperor," Ursula said, squeezing her husband's arm. "The journey home could have been perilous for my condition."

"Then you must stay," Gisla gushed, taking her cousin's hands. "We shall be good friends and I will help you with anything I can."

"You're too generous princess," Count Gerau said, shaking his head. "You have all been so kind already."

"You are family," Rollo said, clapping the young count on the shoulder. "You and your family will be treated as my own."

"My husband is right," Gisla insisted, squeezing Ursula's hands in her own. "We will help you in any way we can."

"You're very generous," Count Gerau admitted. "We came all the way to Paris from the lowlands hoping to gain favor from the royal couple and now we are being treated as if we are siblings. It is warming to the heart."

"You have gained our favor," Gisla admitted, linking her arm with Ursula's, placing a small kiss on her cheek. "As friends and family."

"And we would be honored to help you plan for your growing family," Rollo said, motioning toward the small bulge that had formed under Ursula's dress.

"Anything you may need," Gisla assured, moving from her cousin to Rollo, linking her arm with his.

"Thank you Duke Rollo, Princess Gisla," Count Gerau bowed, smiling softly. "We could not wish for better friends."

"Your love is most cherished," Princess Ursula admitted, mirroring her husband. "We shall never forget."

"Nonsense," Gisla chuckled, placing her free hand on Count Gerau's arm. "We know you'd do the same for us."

Both Gerau and Ursula looked at one another with curious grins before turning back to their friends. Rollo wasn't sure what that look was about but when Ursula placed her hand on Gisla's belly, Rollo understood. He looked between Gisla and Ursula for a few moments before narrowing his eyes on Gerau. Gerau happened to have an amused grin on his face and Rollo just wasn't sure what to say.

"Not yet," Gisla smirked, squeezing Rollo's arm. "Not just yet."

"We'll be waiting, like the entire city, with excited expectation," Gerau admitted, patting Rollo on the shoulder. "Now we will say goodbye and allow Princess Gisla to enjoy the company of her husband. Come, Ursula," he said, lacing his fingers with Ursula's. "She has been waiting all afternoon. We shouldn't obstruct them."

"Goodnight Princess Gisla," Ursula said, nodding to her royal cousin. When they had disappeared from the throne room, Gisla turned to Rollo, squeezing his hands in hers. He just smiled down at her, his eyes roaming her face curiously.

"I have had my blood this month," Gisla admitted, looking down at the floor. "I am not pregnant yet."

"I am sorry," Rollo said, bringing her hands to his face before kissing the tops of them. "We have been trying so hard, perhaps we are rushing God's plans."

"You believe so?" Gisla asked, her eyes finding his. "Do you believe God is displeased?"

"No," Rollo shook his head, cupping her chin in his fingers. "I believe that when it is the right time, God will provide us with our son."

"You must be right," Gisla whispered, reaching her hand up to his cheek, pushing his hair back over his ear. "I worry too much."

"You've been busy," Rollo admitted, leading her from the center of the room toward the side door. "You've been planning banquets and dinners but you've also been preparing yourself for training."

"Perhaps it is a good thing that I am not with child yet," Gisla admitted, leaning her head against his arm. "I could not train with a child in my belly."

"I wouldn't mind if you were swollen with our child," Rollo admitted, lacing his fingers with hers as he lead her down the corridor toward the western staircase. "At least I would always know where you were and if you were safe."

"Are you worried husband?" she asked, a smile on her face. "I assure you, I'm well watched over."

"I trust my men," Rollo admitted, leading her through the archway toward the small winding staircase. "It is Count Odo's men that I do not trust. I fear the worse when you are away from the castle."

"It's natural," Gisla admitted, squeezing his hand. "Every time you leave the castle for training or surveying I am worried that you will not come back. That or you will come back as a corpse."

"You need not fear," Rollo said, smiling down at her.

"Neither do you," Gisla replied with a nod. As they ascended the stairs, Rollo could hear some sort of commotion coming from the hall above them. They quickened their pace until they reached the second floor landing, looking about at the people strewn throughout the corridor. There were a few lords and ladies within the hall but most of the attention was on the two men in the center of the crowd, arguing loudly.

"You're a fool," the younger man said, his red hair visible from the far end of the hall. "The Northmen will return and we will all be doomed. The end times are upon us."

"You insult me," the other man spat, throwing his gray hat to the ground, revealing his balding head. "I am no fool; the Emperor will protect his people."

"Much like he did last time?" asked the younger man. "I lost my older brothers and my father in the raids; what does that mean to the Emperor? Nothing!"

"You speak of treason," the older man replied, the group around them going silent. Rollo and Gisla approached cautiously, watching the argument unfold. "The Emperor has conscripted Duke Rollo. He and Princess Gisla will defend the city against the pagans and the Emperor will once again be victorious."

"The soldiers speak differently," the red-head protested. "The soldiers speak of defeat and siege, not victory."

"What soldiers speak in such a cowardly way?" Gisla spoke up, the crowd around her and Rollo parting. "Who would dare give our city to the Pagans?"

"Weaklings," Rollo spoke up, eyeing the two arguing men. "Only weak men speak in such a way, if they be men at all."

"This fool speaks of treason," the older man said, pointing to the young red-head. "He speaks of defeat and the end of days."

"No such thing will happen on my watch," Rollo's voice boomed over the whispers of the crowd gathered. "Our troops are trained and ready for an attack. Only cowards and fools will fall to the Northmen's fury."

"Apologies Duke Rollo, Princess Gisla," the young man bowed. "I meant no disrespect."

"Did you not?" Gisla asked, approaching him now. "You accuse my father of being a coward, of not caring for his citizens, and you speak as if he were a tyrannical fool. Surely you mean the ultimate disrespect."

"Princess Gisla," the fiery youth bowed, shaking his head. "I only meant that there are signs, from God himself, that the end-times are upon us. It says in Revelations that…"

"I have read Revelations," Rollo interrupted, his eyes narrowing on the man. "And the end times are far from here. God has set me to a purpose and it will be fulfilled; the pagans will be deterred from our shores and peace will finally return to our lands."

The hall was silent, all eyes on Rollo as he spoke, his words of inspiration igniting fervor amongst the lords and ladies present. The man who'd insulted them only bowed lower, moving from their path as they passed. Rollo had taken Gisla's hand, pushing through the crowd that parted as they passed. It was only when they were ascending the stairs to their suite that Gisla spoke, a hint of awe in her voice.

"You inspired all of them," she commented, squeezing his arm. "You put all of their fears to rest with that little speech; I believe you'll have some admirers after that."

"I need only one," he smirked, pushing the door to their suite open, lifting her in his arms and crossing the threshold. She smiled and laughed as he did so, the doors shutting with a thud behind them. As they entered the room Rollo noticed that there was something different about it. Gisla noticed his curiosity and chuckled, wiggling from his arms to stand on her feet.

"You noticed," she said, taking his hand and leading him to the bed. "I changed the colors of the drapes and bedding." She then led him toward their antechamber, opening the curtain to reveal an empty room. The room was once filled with shelves of bedding, books, and supplies but was now empty except for the chest at the far end and the several candelabras around the perimeter.

"What is this for?" he asked, his eyes scanning the plain room. "Where did you move everything?"

"To the storage closet," she admitted. "It was only half full and this room could serve a much better purpose."

"It is so plain," he admitted, peering out the small windows. "Is this for our child?"

"One day," she said, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. "But for now it is a combat chamber."

"A what?" he asked, his eyes going wide.

"We can train here, away from prying eyes," she insisted, standing on her tip-toes to kiss his lips before turning toward the chest. She walked over to it and opened the lid, pulling out a couple of dull swords. She turned to him now, grinning brightly. "Whenever you want to teach me."

"You have been busy," he said, grabbing one of the swords from her. "I suppose I better teach you sooner rather than later."

"I'm a fast learner," she nodded, grasping the sword with both hands. Rollo smiled down at her, mirroring her stance.

"I will teach you," he assured. "You need to know how to defend yourself. Though I am confident that I will be victorious against my brother and his forces, I cannot guarantee your safety when I am on the battlefield. I would feel much better if you were able to defend yourself."

"As would I," she agreed. "I do not want your mind on me and my safety when your own is at stake."

"And I would not have you worried about me when your own life, and the life of the child we may have, is in danger," Rollo assured, dropping his sword. "So tomorrow, instead of going for your walk you will train with me."

Her face lit up at this, her hands dropping her sword and wrapping around Rollo's stomach. He just chuckled, setting his own sword down before engulfing her in his arms. She laughed when he lifted her from her feet and carried her back through the doorway into their bedchamber. When they both landed on the bed, Gisla cuddled up against him, resting her head against his chest. Rollo couldn't help but sigh, the contentment he felt when holding Gisla close overwhelming his senses. It had been a long day and all he wanted was to sleep next to his young wife until the morning. What surprised him was that she had different plans.

"I want to learn," she whispered, tracing her fingers over his chest. "I want you to teach me how to be strong, fearsome, like you."

"You are already strong," he assured, making circles on the small of her back with his fingertips. "Brave as well."

"I still have much to learn," she said, sighing softly. Rollo just chuckled, capturing her lips with his. They lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing and touching, the soft sighs of pleasure escaping them with every breath. It was only when there was a sharp knock on the chamber doors that they stopped, breaking from one another hesitantly. Rollo rolled from the bed and sauntered toward the door, the intruder knocking again as he approached. When he swung the door open, Gisla had just sat up, watching as a soldier entered the room, bowing to first Rollo and then to Gisla.

"What do you need?" Rollo asked, eyeing the man curiously as he shut the door behind him.

"There has been word from the coasts near Normandy," the soldier informed him, his voice steady. "Ships have been spotted in the channel, scouting the coast." Gisla stood up now, her eyes growing wide as the soldier spoke. "A fisherman's boat was destroyed in the channel just last week and just a few days ago two ships were captured."

"Tell me everything," Rollo insisted, ushering the man over toward his desk. Rollo sat down, leaning back in his chair. He offered the soldier a drink, which he drank quickly, before continuing with his report.

"There were reports of pirates on the seas but there was nothing confirmed until last week when a boat was destroyed, the debris and passengers washing up on shore," he began, watching Rollo closely. "Then, a few days later some ships reported foreign vessels within the channel. A day later two trading boats were ambushed and captured by the invaders. We have yet to confirm if it is the Northmen or other foreign invaders."

"How far off the coast?" Rollo asked, looking down at the paperwork on the desk in front of him.

"The first reports were miles away from the coast," the soldier replied. "But the ships captured recently were in rout from The Lowlands to the Seine. Spices, precious metals, and some equipment was all captured by the pirates."

"What equipment?" Rollo pressed, his eyes searching the scribbles on the parchment in front of him.

"Some armor, plated iron, and about four dozen crossbows," the man admitted, his voice becoming quieter as he spoke. "The other ship was laden with grains and poultry."

"Were there any survivors?" Rollo asked, setting aside some of the paperwork.

"None have made themselves known."

"Who was on board?"

"A wealthy merchant, a few sailors, and the captains," the soldier responded with a nod. "We have enacted your orders just in case this is an attack from the Northmen."

"Good, return to Normandy immediately. Take with you the third and sixth legions," Rollo instructed, signing a piece of paper before handing it to the soldier. "This will give you the authority you need. The two legions will bolster our forces in the north until I arrive."

"Yes my lord," the soldier nodded, standing and bowing before turning to leave. When the doors had shut behind him, Gisla had finally collapsed, sitting on the edge of the bed. Rollo noticed her distress, rising from his chair immediately and crossing the room. He took her hands in his before leaning down and kissing her lips. She lingered there a minute, her hands finding his shoulders. When he pulled away he could see the fear forming in her eyes.

"Do not worry," he said, smiling down at her. He then bent down on one knee, watching her face closely as he gently laced his fingers with hers. "We knew that they would return and it may not even be them. It is a bit early in the season to raid."

"What if it is them?" Gisla asked, biting her bottom lip. "What if they have returned in full force?"

"We will answer them with our own show of force," Rollo assured. "I am sure of victory Gisla. You need not worry."

"I will worry and pray for you every day until you are safely back in my arms," she admitted, tears forming in her eyes. "It is not fair though; the husband I love taken from my arms to battle his own brother in defense of my people, of my city."

"Nothing is fair," Rollo insisted, placing a hand on her cheek. "But knowing that you love me will guarantee my safe return to your arms."

"Then I will say it again," Gisla insisted, wrapping her arms around his neck, resting her forehead against his. "I love you Rollo."

"And I love you, Princess Gisla," he whispered, taking in the scent of vanilla that was heavy in her hair. It smelled so good and she felt so right in his arms. Gisla's words were the only things on his mind the rest of that night and into the morning, neither of them sleeping until the early hours of day. Rollo was only woken by sound of knocking on their chamber doors as the captain of his personal guard reported the news.

"My lord," he said, bowing as he entered the chamber. Rollo immediately covered Gisla's naked body with the heavy furs still draped over the bed. "I am sorry to intrude but it is urgent. The Emperor has requested your prescience in the council chambers."

"I'll be there soon," Rollo assured, moving to get out of bed. The captain simply nodded and left the room, his footsteps clacking quickly across the corridor as he descended the stairs. Rollo got out of bed and dressed, Gisla's eyes on him the whole time. When he was finally proper she sat up, her hands reaching out to hold him again. He simply smiled, pulling her into his arms and kissing her passionately. It was several moments before they broke apart, Gisla's cheeks flushed with excitement and sorrow.

"I will be back," he promised, kissing her lips again. "It won't be long."

"Promise?" she asked, her bottom lip quivering. "Promise me that you will not leave me alone."

"I will come back to you," he whispered, holding her face in his palms now. "But in the mean time you need to search for an opportunity to trick Count Odo. We need an opening, an inescapable situation that will provide us with the opportunity to kill him. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she murmured, her eyes roaming his face quickly. "I understand husband."

He simply smiled, kissing her one more time before moving to leave. It was after he had slipped his boots and cloak on that he turned to his young wife. She looked particularly beautiful, her wavy brown hair falling over her shoulder as she watched him. The way she held the furs close to her body, covering her nakedness from his eyes, made him burn with desire. He wanted to just stay here, with her, for the rest of the day but he knew that if he ever wanted to enjoy his wife again, he'd have to fight against these pirates and return victorious. He only hoped that it didn't take long; the longing to be close to the willful princess burned painfully in his chest already.

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	9. Chapter 9

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"Duke Rollo!" yelled the older man, waving at the larger man on the horse. "This way! This way!"

Rollo had been riding for a few days, the rains continuing throughout the entire journey. He had reached Normandy in quick time and had been greeted, every step of the way, by his garrisons and legions. He was escorted by a half a dozen of his own soldiers but each town he came upon greeted him with curious fervor. He had been delayed once by pressing concerns over the length of the chain between a couple of towers half way up the Seine and he had been deterred by local monks who wished to bless him on his Godly works.

Rollo didn't care about these things as much as he cared about making good time so his patience was wearing thin. By the time he had arrived at their fortress in Normandy it had been nearly a week. As the older man called out to him again, waving him towards the stables, Rollo obliged, following him into the dry shelter of the barn. The streets of the small city were abandoned, the gray rain pouring down and flooding the lanes. It was a small city with a decent stone church and a thick ocean wall to keep the elements at bay.

Their palace was quite spacious, the castle wall surrounding the tall pillars of rock and marble that jutted from the clifftop. It was a beautiful city but today it was covered in gray, the rain fading out any beauty the city held. As he dismounted his horse, the older man grabbed the reigns, tying the horse to the stable before offering Rollo a flask. He took it gratefully, downing the sour liquid within. When he was done he handed it back, wiping his chin, and looking about.

"You're troops are waiting for you at the palace," the old man assured. "Gaston! Gaston come in here!" Not long after the older man had called out did a young boy come running into the stables, his dark hair matted to the top of his head with rain. "Gaston, escort Duke Rollo to the palace. Carry his bag." The older man then grabbed the bags from the saddle and tossed them at the boy. He caught them, flinging them over his shoulders before nodding for Rollo to follow. Rollo followed closely, pulling his furs closer around his shoulders as they trekked through the rain. It was only when they had found their way up a side street and into the main square did Rollo realize just how massive his home was. It towered over all the other structures, the ominous stone and clay rooftop a stark contrast to the gray around him.

As they got closer, Rollo could see the steel bared gate in front of his home, a guard standing to the side of it watching the passersby. It was when Rollo approached that the guard bowed, stepping aside for the Duke and the young squire to enter through the gates. It was when Rollo had made it up the lawn and through the terrace that he was greeted by his captain, the stern older man bowing as Rollo entered the main hall.

"Duke Rollo," he bowed. "Your rooms have been prepared and there is food available. We are assembled in the hall awaiting your commands."

"Is there any news?" Rollo asked, following his captain into the palace further. "What about the scouting party?"

"We sent out two ships and a garrison along the coast, with beacons set up at three mile intervals," he responded. "The two ships found nothing and returned just today. We will be sending out another crew to sail the coast as a precaution."

"Good, what about the missing supplies? Did anyone find anything out about the origins of these pirates?"

"No, nothing has been discovered," the captain sighed. "Though from the debris of the destroyed ship, it looks like a raiding party."

"We need to make sure there are shifts posted at each beacon along the cost. There are over a dozen beacons set up along the Normand coast and we need at least two men at each. We want to be able to spot them and set up our defenses before they enter the mouth of the river."

"The rest of the captains and rangers are waiting to discuss strategy," the captain admitted, leading Rollo up the large back stairs to the first floor where he knew the grand hall was located. As he entered the room the men at the table rose, bowing to their Duke. There were only two at the table and Rollo knew them both. One was a balding old man with a white beard and a stern face; he was Captain Torol. The other man was an experienced hunter and ranger known as Devloo; he was a little younger than Rollo with thick black hair and a speckled black beard. The captain that had escorted him in was known as Captain Fish, mostly because before he was a captain of Rollo's guard he was a humble smuggler. Rollo had been given the task of disciplining him but since he was such a good swordsman, Rollo thought it a waste to remove a limb or take the man's life.

"Duke Rollo," Captain Torol bowed, Devloo and Fish moving to their seats and bowing as well. When all four of them had taken their seats around the table, Rollo spoke first.

"So no one has captured one of the pirates and not one beacon has spotted a ship off the coast in the past week?"

"That is correct," Torol said, looking around the table. "We've had constant patrols along the coast and we have also had several ships in and out of port in the past week. None have reported any problems in the channel nor in the shipping lanes."

"Does anyone know how many ships attacked the traders?"

"We believe it to be four ships," Devloo said, sitting back in his chair.

"The amount of goods taken and damage done can only mean that the pirate's forces were far too numerous for the merchants to handle," Fish commented. "We may be looking at a Northmen scouting party."

"They'd send one ship," Rollo corrected, sitting back in his chair. "They'd send one ship and they'd never engage the enemy. Their formations, their strategies, only work in larger groups."

"What about assassins?" Fish asked.

"They have no need for assassins," Rollo said. "And that isn't my brother's style. We may be looking at some foreign pirates or perhaps some other Northmen. Tell me, was there anyone would could tell me what they looked like, whatever they saw?"

"There have been no reported survivors of the three stolen or sunken ships," Torol sighed. "We are blind to who these invaders are."

"It is a little early for the ice to have melted further north," Rollo said, his eyes roaming the table. "It every well could be my brother and his warriors but there is a possibility that it could be another foreign invader."

"Who would have such ships? Devloo asked.

"I know of no other warriors with long boats like the Norhtmen," Torol admitted.

"Saracens," Fish commented, looking between them. "Sand devils that have occupied the peninsula west of here. They are against the Christians and have traded along the coastal waters of Europe for generations."

"From where?" Rollo asked, his eyes widening.

"They hail from the desert lands in the east and occupy lands near the holy city of Jerusalem," Fish explained. "They are usually traders of spices and goods but pirates have been known to pick off merchant ships."

"So, even if it is the Saracen's looting merchants, it would give our defenses and our plans a trial run," Devloo commented, looking between them. "We can keep the guard posted for the next few weeks and see what happens. In the meantime, it will give you a chance to personally survey our defenses."

"It would give us some much needed practice with, hopefully, little loss to life," Torol commented. "What is the plan?"

"I agree," Rollo nodded. "I will stay for a couple of weeks and if there is no spotting of pirates, or foreign ships, then I will return to Paris with the good news."

"What of the merchants?" Devloo asked. "Their families demand recompense for their loss in the form of coin."

"Ah," Rollo nodded, reaching in his pockets. He looted around, the table looking at him in confusion. Then he pulled out his own silken sack of golden coins and set it on the table. "How much were the goods and such worth?"

"Well, each ship held roughly fourteen gold pieces of cargo and another thirty for the boats themselves. Then the lives lost would equate to a hefty sum, seeing as how there were a total of eight victims," Fish said, sitting back in his chair. "You're looking at a total of at least 132 gold pieces."

"That is just for the goods and ships," Rollo protested, dumping his sack on the table, the coins clinking and rolling. "There is two hundred gold pieces in this sack. All 132 shall be paid to the owners of the goods and boats. The rest shall be allocated, evenly, to their families."

"You're too generous," Fish laughed, clapping Rollo on the shoulder. "You needn't pay the extra coin; they will be happy that you have reimbursed them for their goods."

"It is a Christian thing to do, right?" Rollo asked, a little confused. The table went silent and they all looked at him with mild admiration and curious adoration. It was as if Rollo was some sort of art piece, adorned with colors and detail unseen to human eyes. "What?" he finally asked, standing up straight.

"Nothing," Torol assured, smiling at him. "We are just moved by your Christian generosity."

"And your tactics," Fish smirked.

"Indeed," Devloo nodded. "You'll find the common folk to be much more appreciative of a generous Lord."

"Then generous is what I will be," Rollo chuckled, waving them off. "I will sleep tonight and tomorrow morning we will start the tour of our costal defenses. It will take some days to inspect them all so get the hunting party ready."

"Yes my lord," Torol said, bowing. The other two did so as well, gathering up the coins in the purse before disappearing from the room. Rollo sighed, sitting down in his chair and staring at the smoldering fire. He didn't know what to expect when he got here so the reality of a battle-less tour of the defenses disappointed him greatly. He sat there contemplating his absence, the strain it would put on Gisla. Rollo was very uncomfortable leaving her alone, in Paris, with Odo. The thought boiled his blood and so he took precautions. He left a half a dozen of his most loyal guard to watch her. Day and night they would be posted at their doors, while she dines and while she studies. Anywhere she goes, a guard will accompany. He knew she would not like it but it was for her own safety.

There was a knock at the door now and in entered a young man. He was unfamiliar, his pale blonde hair and deep blue eyes resembling that of a young child. He approached Rollo and bowed, moving to the fire to replenish the wood. When he was done he turned back to Rollo, bowing again. "Do you require anything, my lord?"

"Some drink and perhaps something to eat. Nothing big," Rollo insisted, standing. "It will be an early night for me."

"Very well," the young man nodded, leaving the room quickly.

It was an early night for Rollo, after eating the food the young servant had brought him he fell asleep only to be woken by a banging on his chamber doors. He sprung up out of bed, pulling on his long robe and wrapping it around himself before moving to sit at the table. "Come in!" he called, his eyes lazily roaming the room in the early morning light.

In walked Captain Fish, bowing to the still sleepy lord. Rollo waved for him to enter, a servant following him closely. After ordering the servant to bring him drink and food, Rollo offered Fish a seat, stretching his arms above his head to loosen his muscles from the uncomfortable sleep. It did not suit him to not be lying next to his wife and it felt wrong in many ways.

"Duke Rollo," Fish said, sitting across from him. "The hunting party is ready and assembled. As per your preference, we've kept the party lightly equipped and quick to travel. There are four bowman, six guards, and ten or so stewards and stable-masters. We also have the Master of Hounds and his apprentice with us. They've elected to bring only four of their best dogs."

"That's all fine," Rollo sighed, looking out at the cloudy morning sky. "Did it rain?"

"No but there is a storm brewing in the channel," Fish commented, watching the clouds now. "It's best if we travel up the coast to the northern most post in our lands and work our way back to the southern post. After that it is a straight shot across our own forest lands back here."

"Then that is the plan," Rollo yawned, looking back at the captain. "Any news from Paris or the other duchies along the coast?"

"No messenger yet this morning," he shrugged, looking back at Rollo. "But several dinner invitations from the local deputies and princes of Rouen."

"They will have to wait until our return," Rollo groaned, tapping his fingers on the table. "How long should the tour take, Fish?"

"Six days if there is no sightings or delays," he assured. "It is a beautiful tour, I can assure you. The coast is magnificent."

The door to the suite opened then and the steward came in with a platter of warm and cold food, meats and pastries, and a large tankard of wine. Rollo immediately poured himself a cup, dismissing the steward before offering some to Fish. Both men drank and ate from the large platter, Rollo speaking of plans to fortify the coast, spiking the beaches and digging steeper slopes. He also spoke of making the river delta more perilous, bringing in sand from just inland to create sandbars and obstacles for the Northmen but Fish insisted that trapping them in the narrow river would work much better than holding them out.

After Rollo had finished eating and drinking he dressed in his riding clothes, the servants entering to take some of his other clothes and essentials in bags to the stables. When Rollo was ready he told Fish he'd meet him downstairs in a moment. He had to do one more thing before leaving. When Fish had left, Rollo sat down at his desk and starting penning a hasty, but direct message to his wife.

 ** _Gisla,_**

 ** _It has only been a few days but I already burn to be with you again. No sign of any Northmen. We believe the attackers were just pirates. Touring the estates defenses and if all is well, I will return to you just after. Expect me within a fortnight of this letter. Stay safe my loving wife. Your absence from my bed and my arms weighs on my soul. I will be as quick as possible._**

 ** _Rollo_**

He folded the parchment up and stuck it in his pocket. He then left the suite to make his way back down the corridor toward the first floor hall. It was there that he met the master of his household, the man that arranged the everyday luxuries Rollo enjoyed. He was an older man with a square jaw and deep green eyes. He smiled at Rollo and bowed before offering him a canteen; Rollo was pleased to find it was full of his best wine.

"Is there anything else you'll be requiring before you leave for your tour, my lord?"

"Deliver this to the captain of my personal guard. Tell him I require him to deliver this straight into my wife's hands. Be quick about it and return," Rollo said, handing the older man the folded letter in his pocket. "I will be back as soon as I can."

"Yes Lord Rollo," the man responded, bowing as Rollo strapped the canteen around him. He then left the hall making his way down the stairs toward the courtyard. Here his retinue was waiting. More than a two dozen horses and men waiting for him. He nodded at Fish, Torol, and Devloo as they mounted their horses. Rollo did the same, his supplies packed and ready for the long journey. After being blessed by the local bishop, the party left, exiting the northern gates of the city to applause and wonder.

The ride was long and cool, the cold northern wind pushing against them as they traveled into it. The farmland and sparse tree coverage of the river valley exposed them to the elements, the cold not as bad as what Rollo was used to. It was brisk for him, his horse trotting along as they made their way up the valley road and onto the overlooking cliffs. It was a beautiful sight that Rollo couldn't help but mourn; he had wished Gisla was there to enjoy the view of the rising sun and the green and gray waves of grass and hills rolling into the distance.

As they made their way north, the forest engulfed their party. Large evergreens and tall leafless branches swayed in the wind as the birds and gulls called above. It was a whistling wind that bit at them, the creaking of the trees and the clattering of the dead leaves deafening them. It howled and blew, the sun rising to peak between the gray clouds only on occasion. It was at these times that Rollo enjoyed the beauty of the dead forest. The Master of Hounds had run along ahead of them, the dogs hot on the trail of their night's meal. It was their howling and barking that broke the tedium of wind and branch, bark and groaning trunks bending in the fierce gusts of day. Even the clouds were moving quickly, darkening as the day progressed. When they had stopped a short time after midday, to rest in a clearing, Rollo decided it was time to speak to his captains.

The horses were corralled about them, forming what little shelter from the wind they could. All the men huddled about the servants who were handing out dried meats and bread along with cheese and ale. It was a simple meal that would keep the party marching on toward their destination. The first tower, furthest north, was still another whole days ride. It would take them at least triple that to get all the way south and then back to the city.

"Fish, Torol, Devloo," Rollo said, approaching the three men as they ate their jerky and sipped from their own canteens. "How long do you think it will take if we maintain this pace?"

"To the next post?" Devloo asked, looking toward the sky. "Or the whole trip?"

"Both," Rollo insisted.

"Well, if we keep at this pace we may just reach the first post by midday tomorrow, assuming we rest for a few hours tonight," he commented, looking about. "The costal roads aren't dangerous and the guard posts can accommodate the officers. It is a simple journey once we reach the coast. I would guess another seven days until we reach the final post."

Just then the hounds started approaching, their barking signifying the meal that they had caught. Not far behind them were the hunters and a couple of bowmen, carrying over their shoulders a large deer. He was magnificent but his neck was covered in fresh blood, his tongue dangling from his jaws. Everyone applauded, thankful that this animal would provide them their meals for the next few nights. The men presented the deer to Rollo who nodded in approval, thanking the men for their work. They then got straight to work gutting and stripping the animal, the group about them helping in the labor as the rest of the servants gathered up the supplies and such.

"When would you like to get back on the road?" Torol asked, his eyes roaming the group of people eating near the horses to block the cold winds from their faces.

"We'll head out within the hour," Rollo said, taking some jerky and bread that Fish offered him. They all stood in a circle, eating their food and drinking from their canteens of fine wines and ales. It was when one of the hound masters approached them that they turned, allowing the man the shelter of their circle.

"We're ready when you are, my lords," he said, looking about. "The deer is gutted and cleaned and we can cure it tonight after we use what we need."

"We should be there by tomorrow afternoon," Rollo assured. "But we will stop early enough tonight for you to do your work. Food is more important than timing."

"This deer was young," the man commented. "It will feed us for tonight and tomorrow night but after we will have to consider using the coastal waters for fishing or sending parties into the forest for game."

"We cannot deplete the guard tower's supplies," Devloo insisted. "So we must bring our own food and supplies."

"We will use our own resources," Rollo agreed. "Let us pack up and head out. I want to find adequate shelter for tonight so we must make it further north. If we can get to the edge of the forest by nightfall, we can find shelter among the trees and valleys just inside. It'll give us a vantage point to spot anyone who approaches."

"Very well," Fish nodded, waving to the armed guards around him. He spoke to them briefly before turning back to the group. "They will ready everyone and we should be able to move out within minutes."

"Good," Rollo said. "Let's go." Rollo mounted his horse now, tightening the fur jacket around his neck as he trotted into the wind. The path through the forest was covered in knots and branches, the hills and valleys making the roots protrude like worms from a corpse. It was quite ugly the way the forest floor darkened as the day went on, creating shadows amongst the tree trunks and underbrush.

It was Rollo who spotted them first. It was a flicker, a shadow in the tree line but it grew and soon, in their path raised upon its hind legs was a large black bear. It was ferocious, its claws protruding and its fangs snapping as the group came to a halt. Rollo immediately dismounted his horse now, grabbing his sword from around his waist. The bear didn't back down though, roaring at Rollo as he squared his shoulders. It was then that Rollo spotted two more of the creatures, smaller but still menacing as they growled from behind their mother. Rollo knew they had crossed their path just out of hibernation, the need to feed overwhelming the mother and her cubs.

Rollo didn't back down though; he made himself look larger, waving his arms and yelling at the large beast. It came back down to four legs now, shaking its head back and forth and growling at the intruders. Rollo growled back, waving his arms and charging at the creatures, only to stop and wave his weapon. This frightened the cubs, who turned and ran back into the forest but the mother simply swayed, shaking her head at the large man.

After a few more moments of Rollo standing in front of the group of horses and dogs, their barking becoming louder as the beast stayed, the bear became disinterested. She made one more show of distaste, roaring and growling at the group before lazily turning and disappearing back into the woods. By now the sun had faded in the sky and the light blue that had signified the sunset had disappeared, replaced by navy and purple.

It was only after a few more moments of silence that Rollo sheathed his sword and turned back to the group. Many of them were thankful for Rollo's intervention but most were confused. They'd never seen a man take on a bear like that, to scare it away from potential meals without any fear for his own well-being. Rollo simply shrugged, mounting his horse again. "Come!" he said, nudging the animal forward. "Just a little further. The wind is picking up so the trees are thinning. We'll camp just over this rise."

As the group pressed on, Fish came riding up next to Rollo, smiling curiously. Rollo looked over at him skeptically and the man just chuckled, shaking his head. "I think you've stunned some of our party," he admitted. "I've never seen a man face off a bear like that."

"It is simple," Rollo admitted. "Surely Devloo or one of the hunters has come across a similar situation."

"It is not that," Fish said, the wind whistling once more. "We've never seen a lord dismount his horse, even though there were plenty of warriors and hunters with dogs behind him, and face a bear with nothing but a scream and a sword. It was quite the site."

"They were not hurting anyone," Rollo said, looking about. "This is their home. We should not kill just because we can."

"You are surprise me every time we meet," Fish chuckled. "You are more than what you seem Duke Rollo."

"People have been underestimating me my whole life," Rollo said, nodding toward the heavens, watching the dark clouds engulf the sky and hide the stars. "Yet people are always surprised."

"Can I admit something?" Fish said, looking at the sky as well. Rollo stayed silent which was enough to answer the captain. "I thought for sure you'd kill me when we met."

"I had planned on it," Rollo said, looking at the man. "It was my duty so I was going to do it, without a second thought. But then I saw you try to escape and the way you handled yourself in battle. I knew I could benefit from your loyalty."

"But you surprised me for the first time that day," Fish laughed. "I remember what you said. They had me back in chains and you said that they didn't suit me. That steel in my hands was better than steel binding them."

"I still believe it," Rollo smiled. "You've been loyal and I hope I have given you no reason to despise me."

"None at all," Fish admitted. "You continually surprise me and I find your friendship to be a great benefit. I see no reason to be displeased."

"I am glad to hear it," Rollo chuckled. "But as with every man, there are problems in my life as well."

"Is there something I could do to help?" Fish asked, watching Rollo's face as the wind wiped his hair over his shoulders.

"Perhaps one day there will be," Rollo sighed, looking ahead. The trail was dark and the dim light from their recently lit lanterns and torches wasn't enough. Rollo could see the crest of the hill, the path disappearing toward the coast and along the hills. The wind was rustling the trees and the rain was starting to spatter across the ground. Rollo stopped now, holding up his arm. "Here!" he said, motioning toward the alcove of dirt and tree trunks along the side of the hill. It looked to have held a homestead at one point, or perhaps an abbey, some crumbled bricks and stones signifying an old wall.

As the party settled in a circle, saddling the horses on a level plot of ground for the night, the servants began setting up tents. The first one was for the hunters so that they could begin cooking and smoking the meat caught earlier that day. The second tent was erected for Rollo but he gave it up to the servants to prepare the meal and fire. Rollo insisted that while the guard gathered wood for their fire, he would assist in erecting the other captain's tents and his own. It was after a half hour of gathering wood and erecting poles and canvases that the work was finally finished. The meat was smoking in the small box the hunters brought and the meal for that night's dinner was cooking over the fire while the servants poured ale and wine into jugs.

"Come, Duke Rollo," Torol said, waving him over to his tent. "Come, let us relax and drink until the food is done."

Rollo only nodded, moving into the tent and taking a seat in his cushioned wooden chair. There was a table erected and a cot along with a crate full of Rollo's belongings for the trip. The floor of the tent was covered in simple canvas and Rollo noticed the servants were bustling around, putting the final touches on the tent. They even made him a comfortable bed on the cot. Rollo watched, and drank with his captains, listening to their conversations about women and the last hunt they enjoyed. It was light conversation, something interesting for Rollo to listen to. When the food was ready the servants brought in plates of warm meat and bread and a few other pastries and cheeses. They even gave them apples, obviously stored from last season's harvest.

The men ate hungrily, enjoying a conversation about court intrigue and the implications of Rollo's reign in Rouen. It was enlightening to hear of their theories about his lineage and what a ruler like him could accomplish. By the end of the night the men were drunk, Rollo laughing and joking about his own heritage. He told funny tales and at one point, Captain Fish was so enthralled by his tales of Norse adventurers that he looked as a young child would, learning of the greatest of heroes.

"Come!" Torol finally said, stroking his beard, his eyes hazed with drink. "Let us leave the duke alone. We must start out early tomorrow. Let us go to bed!" The men laughed and said their farewells, their steps uneven as they went to their own tents. It wasn't long before the sound of snoring could be heard throughout the camp. Rollo sat at the table still, staring at the wine in front of him. This trip, though long and tedious, was enjoyable. His captains were entertaining, reminding him of his own times battling alongside his brother. They told interesting stories and had plenty of battle experiences. Rollo felt alive again, something he thought he'd lost when he abandoned his own people, when he decided to give in to his destiny.

Gisla had made him feel welcomed, after weeks and weeks of fighting and distance. It was only when he showed her how he felt that she understood what was at stake. Now she was his woman, devoted to him like he was to her. Never again would be make the mistake of seeking solace in another woman's arms. He had felt guilty about it for a few weeks but the girl had slipped away, gone from his memory as he enjoyed falling in love with his willful princess. Rollo sighed at the thought of her, alone in their bed, missing him and his body reacted most unexpectedly. He quickly jumped up when he realized it, pushing the canvas back to step into the cool night air. The wind was still bristling the tent, the sound becoming background noise as Rollo wandered away from the camp toward the trees. He needed to piss and he doubted that doing so in the camp would be appreciated.

As he reached a tall and thick trunk he untied his breeches, the relief washing over him. It felt like forever, his eyes wandering the branches and clouds above as they streaked across the starry sky. The moon was only half full and it looked like a smiling face watching over him. He couldn't help but smile back, his eyes closing to the cool breeze that touched his face. When he was done he turned around to climb back up the slight slope, grabbing onto a sapling to hoist himself over the rocks. It was then that he felt it; the branch he had grabbed had turned into a warm and firm hand. The sapling had disappeared and in its place stood the young monk Athelstan, his smile wide.

"You appear in the most surprising of times," Rollo commented, squeezing his hand and then letting go, regaining his balance. "What brings you to me friend?"

"Many things," he chuckled, patting Rollo on the shoulder. "But for now, I must tell you that your brother is planning on returning. Ragnar sets sail in a fortnight and he brings with him a great army."

"How many boats?" Rollo asked, his eyes wide. Finally, it was time to face is destiny.

"Double the last raid," Athelstan admitted, his eyes on Rollo. "Listen closely. The bear will only triumph if he is patient."

"How? What must I do?" Rollo asked, grabbing Athelstan's shoulders. The monk simply smiled, patting his arm.

"You must defend those you love," he nodded. "You must make your decision because if you do not, you will not fulfill your destiny."

"And why have you not gone to Ragnar? What if you are leading me into a trap? You and he were like brothers…"

"As you are to me," Athelstan assured, his jaw squaring. "Rollo, you have been baptized in the Christian faith. Fulfill your duties and you will not fail."

"I do not understand you," Rollo groaned, looking about. The wind was still making the trees groan and the leaves were stirring in the night. "Why have you chosen to help me?"

Athelstan just smiled again, moving from Rollo's grasp. "I am sent by God to help his people. Through you his works will be done."

Rollo only blinked at the monk, his smile fading as his body stiffened, thinning and transforming into the sapling once more, its branch outstretched like a hand. Rollo rubbed his eyes and looked around, the camp silent with snoring and crackling. The fire burned hot as he approached, pulling himself up the hill and toward the warm glow. He stood there a moment, contemplating Athelstan's words. It made no sense to him but surely he needn't understand. It was beyond him and this battle, this force that drove him toward his destiny, couldn't be stopped. He had to defend Paris, the whole of Frankia, from his brother and his entire family. The seer had been right; Rollo would have been dancing on the beach that day.

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 **PLEASE REVIEW. :) Hope you enjoyed it.**


	10. Chapter 10

**GREETINGS AGAIN! One more chapter before the big episode tonight. :D I couldn't help it. I can't wait to fangirl and write some more after tonight. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Lots of intrigue, some action, and of course some fun character bonding and the like. I really do hope you enjoy the pace. I felt like Tolkien had taken over my fingers with these last couple of chapters because I just love the detail I am using. XD Is that shallow? IDK! I just like how it adds to the story. I hope you like it too. PLEASE REVIEW.**

 **VIKINGS IS OWNED BY HISTORY CHANNEL. ORIGINAL PLOT IS MINE.**

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"We need more spikes along the coast there, and near the mouth of the river," Rollo pointed. "It may not be the Seine but the raiders could travel inland this way."

"Duke Rollo," came Fish's voice from behind him, the man approaching through the rain and mud. He entered the tent, bowing quickly. "We have put the last of the spikes on the beach and are ready, on your word, to travel on."

"It is the last stop, correct?" Rollo asked, pulling out a parchment map of the coast, surveying it. "Then back to the city?"

"Correct," he said, pointing at the last tower. "We are not far off from it considering it flanks the white cliffs."

"Good, how long until we can get there?"

"If we ride hard, and are not welcomed with flooding, it shouldn't take us more than half a day. If we leave now we will be there just past sunset."

Rollo nodded, turning to the hunter standing at the table. "Inform the troops we will be departing within the hour for the last tower," he told him, nodding at the list that sat atop the pile of papers. "Replenish our supplies with this from the city and meat us at the last tower. We should not be there more than two nights."

"Yes my lord," he bowed, taking the list and exiting the tent. Rollo turned to Fish now, a grin on his face.

"So," Rollo asked, pouring him some wine. "Are we prepared?"

"Very well," Fish said. "If there are any ships on the horizon, they will be spotted and the word will reach Paris within a week. We have ships to relay the messengers and horses at the ready."

"Good," Rollo said, pouring himself some wine. They drank for a moment, speaking of the remaining work that needed to be done. Then Torol came in, bowing to Rollo.

"My lord, we will be ready to depart shortly. Is everything in order?" he asked, nodding at Fish.

"Yes, the last of the spikes will be going up as we leave, around the river's entrance. The rest is already finished. The final post should be well fortified and the newest of the towers," Rollo replied, looking at his map. "This should not take us as long."

"Our trip has taken longer than expected," Torol commented, looking at the papers on the table. "What was meant to be a week-long tour turned into almost two weeks of work."

"We will be thankful for it when Ragnar arrives," Rollo commented, piling up the papers. "After this I must rush back to my castle, oversee the cities supplies, and then head straight for Paris. I will take a boat to better survey the defenses from the water."

"It will be much quicker," Fish nodded. "You should arrive in Paris within three days."

"Good," Rollo said, moving toward the door, strapping on his fur cloak against the falling rain. "Let's get going before the rains pick up."

The group of men traveled through the camp and around the guard tower, the wall around it reaching almost twelve feet, the thick brick ominous against the roaming waves over the sea cliff. They made their way to the stables, mounting their horses and taking off down the costal road. It was narrow but even, leading south along the coast until it reached the white cliffs, a set of breaks that are sheer ninety degree drops.

As the sun started to disappear, the daylight fading, they could hear the waves crashing into the cliffs. It was soon, when they crested the final dune covered in sparse and thin grass, that they could see the tower over the horizon. It jutted into the sky, its tall windows alight with fire, and the noise of the small town at the base of the cliffs was a sign that the tower was well fortified. As they galloped onto the grassy plains, toward the cliffs, Rollo could spot lights moving in the distance, over the grass from the city. They were moving quickly toward them and Rollo halted, motioning for the party to light their torches. It was difficult to do but soon they had a few lit, Rollo grabbing one and waving it at the approaching party. They responded with a wave and as they two groups approached one another, Rollo could see the familiar crest of his guard.

"My lord!" the solider at the front of the group yelled, bowing his head. "We were not expecting you tonight."

"I am on a tight schedule," Rollo replied. "Tell your lieutenant to meet me in his hall. I will be wanting a status report of the supplies, troops, and defenses. Tell him we will speak more in the hall."

"As you wish," the soldier nodded, turning his group back toward the town. As they approached the lights from the homes and tower illuminated the pathway, the large wooden gate lowering as they passed. Rollo allowed Fish to saddle his horse and made his way into the guard house. He went up the spiral stairs and into the tower, the double doors of the main hall open. Inside was an older man, his beard long and white. His eyes were narrowed and his back hunched but he wore a steel plated chest piece and a sword about his hip. Rollo approached him now, the man's eyes staring off into the distance.

"Sir," Rollo said, moving closer.

The man raised his head now, his eyes wide. He then moved, standing up and bowing his head. "Ah, Duke Rollo," he wheezed, sitting back down. "Please sit. You've had a long journey."

"Yes, and a longer one still," Rollo admitted. "I must be done here quickly so I need an assessment of all of your assets and defenses."

"They are here," the old man said, pushing a stack of papers at him. "It is all documented. My soldiers are informed that they will be assessed and our defenses upgraded."

"Do they need upgrading?" Rollo asked, looking over the paperwork in the pile as he sat down.

"The spikes are sharp, the walls are fortified, the supplies are gathered in triplicate, and our men are well trained, sober," the old man said, his voice stern. "We are ready."

"Good, I will assess everything tomorrow morning and if everything is as you say, we can leave in the afternoon."

"Thank you my lord," the man said, nodding his agreement. "Please, feel free to take my quarters for the night."

"Nonsense," Rollo said, shaking his head. "I will lay my head where I can. You sleep."

The old man nodded, standing slowly and shuffling from the room. When he was gone Rollo looked about, assessing the armor and weapons about the room. There were footsteps approaching and Rollo turned, watching the door curiously. In came his captains; Fish, Torol, and Devloo. They bowed and looked about, grabbing up the cups and pitchers strewn about the table. They drank and talked, Rollo informing them of the old lieutenant's words. After they drank their fill, the servants bringing in more wine and platters of food in the meantime, they dispersed, moving toward the barracks. They all fell asleep comfortably, the barracks warm from the fire burning in the hearth. It was Rollo who woke first, the daylight rising in the east as it poured through the windows.

He rose from the bed, pulled on his clothes from last night, and left the room, closing the door quietly. He was greeted by a servant in the hall who offered to escort him to his prepared room. Rollo accepted and after a quick bath and a change of clothes he was ready to eat. He didn't eat much filling his stomach with wine and bread before setting out toward the coast. It took him most of the morning to survey the spikes and order more to be placed, the guards getting to work digging the trenches. When he made it back to the town, he saw that it was alive with the bustle of everyday life. Merchants were selling products and guards were patrolling the streets. It seemed almost too simple. Rollo sighed as he watched the soldiers bustle about, gathering the timber needed for the spikes.

As he approached the tower he was greeted by Fish. "Everything else is up to speed," he assured, looking about. "The troops are well disciplined and the defenses are solid."

"Supplies?"

"They are plentiful," Devloo said, approaching from the stables. "They have plenty to last a siege."

"Then everything is ready for the invasion," Rollo smiled, looking out at the ocean. "We need to finish up here and head toward the city. I must depart shortly after, my friends."

"We will be eagerly awaiting your return," Fish assured, looking about. "Where is Torol?"

"He is talking to the old lieutenant, gathering the Intel on the troops the region has to offer," Devloo replied. "They have reserves that are to be sent to the fort for training."

"Good," Rollo said. "Let's saddle up. We'll leave here after a meal and a quick word with the lieutenant."

"Very well, I will inform the guard," Devloo nodded, leaving them to attend the soldiers.

"I'll tell the stable master," Fish said, nodding to Rollo. "They are in the hall. I'll meet you here when you are done."

Rollo simply nodded and took off toward the tower. As he walked down the street he couldn't help but admire the merchants and common folk. There were herdsman leading sheep and geese through the square and young maidens were gathering water and supplies for their night's meal. Rollo heard the fisherman calling out to the ladies and gentlemen overseeing the bazar and he could see the guards interacting with the drunks and wenches. It was then that he spotted her, standing under a canvas tarp selling fish. She was wrapped in warm wool but he could see, below her heavy layers and shawl, the swollen belly. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide in horror. It was the kitchen wench that he had bedded months ago. She was swollen and smiling, talking to another maiden eagerly.

Rollo didn't know what to do but he knew the longer he stood there, the more likely it was that she would spot him. He trotted on now, the rains sprinkling down as he passed, his eyes averted from the stall. When he had reached the entrance to the tower he hastily went in, looking about for Torol. When he entered the hall and saw him sitting at the table, talking to the gray lieutenant, he approached, clapping his captain on the shoulder.

"Torol, we must leave soon," Rollo insisted, smiling at the graying man across from him. "Everything seems to be up to standard. We must ride for the city and then I must depart for Paris if I am to reach the palace before the invasion."

"We do not know there will be one just yet," Torol insisted, looking up at Rollo. "Your suspicions are not solid evidence of an impending attack."

"I am sure it will come within a month and we must prepare," Rollo insisted. "The snows and ice are melting and the boats will be ready to sail. It is better we be safe than sorry."

"I agree," the old man said, leaning back in his chair with a crackle of his back. "We are better to be prepared than caught unaware."

"Yes, so let's go," Rollo insisted. "It has been pleasurable and I appreciate the urgency your troops have shown. Please, take care." Rollo then turned from the older man and led the way into the corridor outside the main hall. Once there he motioned for Torol to follow him out the side door and into the courtyard. Rollo then stopped, spun around, and narrowed his eyes. "When I wrote to you, all those months ago to find a home and husband for a servant girl at the palace, who did you send her to?"

Torol's eyes widened and he pondered, remembering the girl from all that time ago. He then smiled, nodding. "Ah, I remember her," he said. "I found her a merchant husband, in a fishing town not far from here actually. She's well taken care of. What brings that up?" His eyes then narrowed on Rollo. "Was there a problem with her? Should I have done something else? The man is kind and successful."

"It is all well," he said with a nod. "I only ask because it had weighed on my mind. She was kind to my wife in a troubling time."

"She is well looked after," the man nodded. "Her dowry was more than enough to find her a simple and caring husband."

"Good," Rollo said, stepping out into the rain from under the awning. "Let's go. We're meeting the others at the stables."

The whole ride back to the city was nerve-racking. The rain had become heavier and the roads had flooded with mud and clay. When they finally made it, the retinue close behind, they were greeted by a crowd of citizens, cheering and waving. Rollo wasn't sure what to make of it, waving to them as he passed. When he finally reigned in his horse and made it to the palace, it was late, the cool night creeping in. The salty breeze from the sea wafted over the city as the bells rang final mass. Rollo said goodbye to his captains for the night, going to his chambers and undressing. He was damp and cold and the warm fire burning in the hearth warmed his bones. He was stripped naked when there was a knock on his door. He grabbed his robe and tied it on, moving to the door and opening it to see another servant. The same from earlier, pale blonde hair and deep blue eyes. The boy bowed before offering Rollo a pitcher of wine, a cup, and some random meats and pastries. Rollo took them thankfully, sending the boy on his way before locking the chamber doors.

After filling his belly and drinking most of the wine he lay down, comfortably nestled in the furs and wool of the bed. He wanted more than anything for Gisla to be there, in his arms. He'd had no letter from her and was eager to see her. He would be back in Paris in a few days, travelling upriver as fast as the boat could carry. The image of the pregnant girl popped into his head now and he felt sick, shameful. He didn't know what to think; was the child his? Surely it was possible; the girl had left Paris when the snow was sparse, the frost setting in. Surely she was not pregnant at the time. Rollo rolled over in bed now, his eyes staring blankly into the fire. He was unsure what to do.

If he kept it a secret, no one could find out. The child would live and die with its mother and her husband and he need never worry. On the other hand, a couple of people knew of the servant's placement and he wasn't sure who knew of her condition. If even a rumor got out that the servant could be carrying the duke's child, problems would arise. He was also afraid of someone else telling Gisla. He wanted more than anything to keep this from her; she would not trust him and surely she would leave him for his unfaithfulness. He also didn't want her to find out from some rumor or a random lord or lady. If the news got out, he wanted to be the one to have told her before it even spread.

He groaned now, rolling back over and staring at the ceiling. The paintings of angels and luscious scenery were beautiful and the longer he stared, the more guilty he felt. It was only then that he noticed the face of one of the angels. Instead of fine blonde and golden hair the angel had dark hair and a beard. Its face was familiar, Athelstan staring down at him from the ceiling with quiet enthusiasm.

"You are a cruel ghost Athelstan," Rollo said, glaring at the monk. "Why do you chose to haunt me when I am least expecting it?"

"I do so because it is needed," he commented, his body detaching from the painting and floating down to the floor. He was aglow with gold and white and he crossed his legs, setting at the end of the bed. "You are troubled."

"Very," Rollo groaned. "It was you who warned me but I did not take heed. Now I am lost, trapped in a very undesirable situation."

"The servant girl is with child," Athelstan commented, watching Rollo knowingly. "What will you do?"

"What can I do?" Rollo snapped, looking at the monk. "I can both keep it silent and pretend to be ignorant or I can tell my wife and trust that she will still love me."

"Lying is no way to hold together a relationship," Athelstan commented. "She trusts you, loves you even… surely you can show her the same respect?"

"And if she does not forgive me?" Rollo asked, his eyes narrowing. "She is prideful and strong. She will not forgive my selfish disloyalty."

"You should give her the chance," Athelstan encouraged, his eyes bright with hope. "If she truly loves you, she will forgive you."

"You're a monk," Rollo said, looking at his friend. "You have not experience with marriage. Why should I take your advice?"

"You didn't last time," he pointed, a smirk growing on his face. "Perhaps you'd like to try again?"

"Fine," Rollo groaned, leaning back into bed, his eyes searching the ceiling. "Tell me, Athelstan, how did you find God?"

Rollo's eyes drifted toward the monk and found a silly smile on his face. He nodded and sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "I had asked for a sign," Athelstan said, his eyes drifting to the past. "I had asked God to show himself to me. The torture in my soul was unbearable. I felt love for God and all of his creatures but I also feared the wrath of Odin, or Thor and of Freya. I found that in the world we lived in, the hatred that easily consumed us all was found in many religions, in many disguises. Because of this, because of my love for all men on this earth, God revealed himself. It was only after that I had tried to live an earnest Christian life again. Unfortunately, my time was cut short."

"Do you regret your time on earth, your doubts?" Rollo asked, eyeing the monk curiously. "Surely you regret coming to Kattegat?"

"No, for it was there that God revealed himself," Athelstan sighed, looking back at Rollo. "Soon you will see God's wonders and through you his will shall be done."

"I still do not see how," Rollo scoffed, rolling onto his side to stare at the monk. "I am simply fulfilling my duty to the Emperor. Once I am finished, I'd like to retire in peace and watch my children grow."

"Is that not the destiny you seek?"

"It wasn't," Rollo replied, looking back at the fire. "But it is now my only desire."

"That love," Athelstan insisted, smiling down at his friend. "Is what God has given us all. We forget that blessing and sometimes use it to justify our own ends. Perhaps your fate is to embrace that love?"

"Perhaps you're right," Rollo commented. "I do not know my fate but that is the way of the human soul. We do not know our own fate until it is upon us."

"Then you are wise," Athelstan smiled. "You may not want to believe it but God does have a plan for you, Duke Rollo."

"As long as his plan includes protecting my family," Rollo insisted, thinking of Gisla's soft and worried face. "Then I do not care what happens to me."

"Perhaps it will be so," Athelstan shrugged. "But your troubles must not overwhelm you. Like I have said, trust in Gisla. Perhaps you will be pleasantly surprised."

Rollo just nodded, watching the ceiling. Athelstan watched his friend closely now, both men sitting in silence on the bed. When Rollo began to feel tired Athelstan simply smiled, offering his friend something from his pocket. It was a simple silver and sapphire cross, the chain dangling from his fingers. Rollo looked at it curiously before reaching out to take it.

"It is for your wife," Athelstan said, nodding. "It will protect her while you are away. I know it weighs on your mind, much like Siggy."

"Every day," Rollo said, his eyes narrowing on the cross. He then took it between his fingers, inspecting it. "So simple yet so beautiful. She will appreciate it."

"Follow my advice Rollo," Athelstan insisted, standing from the bed. "You will be better off for it."

"You would not lead me astray my friend," Rollo said, grasping the cross and sitting up. He watched Athelstan saunter to the window now, his eyes on the dripping glass panels.

"I will come to you again," Athelstan said, nodding his approval. "Take care of your wife Rollo."

Rollo could only nod and Athelstan disappeared through the windowpanes, his figure fading into the dark rainy night. Rollo sighed now, falling back into his pillows, raising the cross over his head to better inspect it. It glimmered in the light from the fire, the candles going out on their pegs. Rollo watched the ceiling dim, the fire eventually being the only source of light in the room. He clutched the cross in his fist tightly as he drifted to sleep, the image of Gisla's crying face before him as he slept.

The next morning Rollo rose in a heated mood. He wanted to leave this castle and rush to his wife's side. It had been over a fortnight and he hadn't heard from her. He ached to be by her side and so he dressed in haste, dismissing the servant who offered him breakfast.

"Tell the stewards to ready my things. I leave for Paris today," he insisted. "I travel by ship so make the accommodations. Make sure they are ready to leave within the hour."

The servant left quickly as Rollo slipped on his boots and gear. He needed to leave soon and the faster he rode for the river's docks, the faster he could sail home. Though, technically Rouen and Normandy was his home now, without Gisla it felt empty, hollow. Rollo informed Fish of his plans, telling the man that he and his personal guard will return to Paris. He also told the man that if there was anything, a spotting of ships or a problem with the defenses, to inform him immediately.

It was only an hour later that he was on the ship headed back for Paris. The wind was at their back, the northern gusts sending their ship upriver in haste. As they travelled, the hours turning into days, Rollo inspected the banks and fortifications, each watch tower demonstrating the working order of their chains and archers. The rains didn't let up either, sometimes flooding the banks with silt and sand. At one point the sand was so heavily piled that their ship got caught on a sandbar, the crew taking almost a half a day to free it.

When they were back on their way, Rollo couldn't help but feel impatient. The fortifications were good, the ships that greeted them solid, and soldiers well trained. Rollo was pleased with all of this but he knew his heart would not calm until he had his wife in his arms. As they approached the widened part of the river, Rollo could see the spires from the city jutting into the sky. It was early still, the sun just peaking over the horizon as they approached. The trip had taken longer than he'd have liked, setting out almost five days ago. He wasn't sure what to expect when he reached the city so he was beyond surprised when the Emperor and his retinue met him at the city docks.

"Duke Rollo!" he said, holding his arms out for his son-in-law. The Emperor's lords and ladies had accompanied him along with the bishop, several monks, and Count Odo's retinue. Rollo searched their faces for his wife and was overjoyed to find her standing behind her father, her eyes wide with expectation. Rollo embraced his father-in-law, smiling at him with renewed excitement. "How was your progress? You must tell me all about it!"

"It was productive," Rollo said, nodding at the king. "Our defenses are solid and our soldiers prepared. I am expecting the first sighting within the month."

"So soon?" the Emperor asked, a flash of fear in his eyes. "Are we truly prepared?"

"The coast is defended, the chains and towers are fully functional, and the fleet is ready for deployment," Rollo assured, squeezing the Emperor's shoulders. "All is in place!"

"Wonderful news," Gisla interrupted, moving around her father to embrace Rollo. His arms wrapped around her tightly and his eyes were alight with relief. She looked well, almost glowing on the docks in the early morning sunlight. "But my husband has just returned and is in need of much rest. Surely we can speak tonight, over dinner father?"

"Yes!" the Emperor said, nodding his approval. "Tonight we shall have a family dinner. Just the three of us. You can tell me of your travels and of my beautiful country."

"I look forward to it your majesty," Rollo assured, keeping an arm firmly wrapped around Gisla. He could see Odo's disdain from here. The Emperor simply smiled and turned, his retinue following close behind. Odo approached Rollo now, bowing before smiling up at him.

"I take it your progress went well," he drawled, his eyes drifting over the two of them. "You must inform me of our progress and defenses when you have the time."

"He will not have time for quite a while," Gisla said, her hand finding Rollo's arm and holding it tightly. "Perhaps some other time Count Odo."

"Yes," Rollo interrupted, smiling at Odo. "I have had a long journey and so some rest would be much appreciated. I will meet with you later this week to discuss our resources."

"It would be much appreciated," Odo assured, bowing one more time before following the Emperor. When everyone had disappeared, and all that remained were Rollo's guard and the sailors who had brought him, Gisla wrapped her arms around his shoulders, capturing him in a tight hug. She was breathing roughly, her arms holding him against her closely. Only after a few minutes of holding one another did they separate, watching each other's faces with longing and admiration.

"I have missed you," he said, kissing her forehead. "I have missed you so much."

"And I you," she whispered, her hands clutching the front of his shirt. "Come, let's go back to our chambers. I want to spend some time with you."

Rollo simply chuckled, wrapping an arm around her and walking up the cobblestone street toward the palace gates. After winding through lords and ladies, servants and priests, they had finally made it to their suite, locking the door behind them. Rollo and Gisla remained in their bed the rest of the morning, making love and whispering sweet words in each other's ears. It was after the third time, when Rollo and Gisla had started breathing harshly, their bodies slick with sweat, that they took a break, holding one another in their warm lover's cocoon. They lay like that well into the afternoon, whispering to one another, Rollo telling her of the trip he has had. He told her about the rains and coast, the pirates and the guard towers, and everything in between. It was only when he spoke of the white cliffs that his thoughts turned dark. He was unsure if he should follow Athelstan's advice or if he should remain silent; both had dire consequences.

"What is wrong?" Gisla asked, her face searching his. "Are you displeased?"

"I am conflicted," he admitted, his eyes drifting to the ceiling. "I used to think that all I wanted was fame and glory. That my name should go down in history as a great warrior and leader. Now, I am not so sure."

"You are already a great warrior and leader," Gisla cooed, kissing his chest. "Now you must learn to be a great husband and a great Christian."

"I fear I am neither," he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her hand spreading over his wide chest. "You've been kind to me and you have vowed to protect my people, giving up everything you've ever known. You are a good man Rollo."

"If you knew what I have done," he sighed, holding her closer. "You would hate me."

"You're so melancholy," she whispered, tracing circles on his chest. "Why?"

"I fear I have not been a good husband," he said, tracing his finger up her spine, her body warm against his. "I have committed a sin."

"What did you do?" she asked, raising up on her elbow. "Tell me the truth and you will be forgiven."

"Do not guarantee what you cannot deliver," Rollo whispered, capturing her lips with his. It was a slow, passionate kiss that sent chills down Gisla's spine, goosebumps forming on her skin. When he finally released her lips, his tongue dancing out over them, she could see the sadness in his eyes.

"What could be so unforgivable?" she asked, fear creeping into her gaze.

"Do not promise me your forgiveness," Rollo murmured, his lips touching hers as he spoke. "I love you so much and the thought of losing you over a hasty and stupid decision frightens me more than any raiders or army."

"Then speak," she said, holding his face in her hands. "Speak and see your soul unburdened."

Rollo watched her face now, the sincere honesty in her eyes reflecting the goodness of her heart. He saw the woman he had fallen for, her soft touches and fierce pride making her all the more alluring. Rollo looked away from her when the pain and fear entered her eyes.

"Months ago, when you were considering divorce and we were newly married," he began, his hands finding hers as he put some distance between them. "I took a servant girl. She had tempted me and when I found out she was going to be serving our household, I could not live with the guilt and shame. So, I assigned my captain in Rouen to find her a decent husband, far from Paris." He watched the horror in her face come to life, her eyes widening as he spoke. It was only when he was done, her jaw squared, that he knew she would not forgive him. His heart sank and his mind raced. He was not sure what she was going to say but he did know that she would not trust him again.

She sat up in bed now, looking down at him with fierce annoyance and jealousy. "You tell me this now because it weighs on your conscience?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.

"I tell you this because in my time away I came to miss your smile, your voice, your very breath," he admitted, his voice soft. "I could not forgive myself if you were to find out from a servant or some other gossip. You are a princess and deserve my love and respect even if I was unfaithful."

She pondered his words, her eyes cold and calculating as she watched him. He could not tell if she was contemplating his words or his honesty. He could only see her distrust and sadness, the tears she was trying to hold back finally gushing down her cheeks. He wanted to hold her, to pull her close but he knew she would not appreciate his touch right now. After staring at one another, her tears falling slowly and his own eyes reflecting the sadness she felt, she finally moved to the edge of the bed, her bare back exposed to him. He sat up and watched her, the blanket strewn across his lap as she steadied her breathing. She then turned to him, her eyes alight with determination.

"You've betrayed me," she whispered, her lips quivering. "I am hurt and I do not know if I can trust you again but I realize that your infidelity was my fault. I was not appreciative of you and acted like no good Christian wife. For that I apologize." She then turned around, crawling over to him and resting her head on his chest. "But I love you and your honesty has moved me. I do not know where we can go from here but I only hope that from now on, we will be truthful to one another."

Rollo's arms wrapped around her tightly and he sighed, his eyes misting. He had never felt like this, relief overtaking his entire body. He had not told her that she was pregnant and thought that, for a brief moment, it should be mentioned but he was silenced when she straddled his hips, kissing him passionately. All doubt had left his mind and all he wanted to do was earn Gisla's trust again, his arms wrapping around her waist tightly as they kissed, losing track of time once more, their bodies intertwined for the rest of the afternoon.

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 **SO?! Rollo returns to Paris, everything seems to be okay... what do you think? Please REVIEW!**


	11. Chapter 11

**New chapter! The episode was pretty darn good. I am so glad they are leaving a lot of Rollo and Gisla's relationship vague. Gives me more to play with. ;) Hope you enjoy. Really want to cement this plotline. :D PLEASE REVIEW!**

 **VIKINGS IS OWNED BY HISTORY CHANNEL. I ONLY OWN THE ORIGINAL PLOT.**

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A few weeks had passed since Rollo had returned to Paris, his attention to Gisla never wavering as he attended to her every need. He even began their training, the room adjacent to their bedchamber being put to good use. Rollo first taught her to use an axe, the weapon lighter and more effective in close combat.

"You are moving better," Rollo insisted, avoiding another one of her strikes. "But never lose your position on the battlefield. That can lead to certain death."

"As you say husband," she replied, swinging at him again. She had become more skilled with the axe in the couple of weeks they had been working together, her form much improved. She had taken his lessons to heart, sometimes insisting they train for longer each day they met. It was an everyday occurrence and Rollo had begun to believe that she enjoyed it more than he did.

"You're distracted," he said, watching her movements. "Swing with purpose and aim for the areas I told you about."

"The neck," she said, swinging at him. He leaned back missing the blow of the dull axe as she swung. "And the legs," she continued, swinging at his shins. She moved out of the way, his reflexes making him swing at her, the training paying off as she dodged just in time. She the swung at his thigh, Rollo just barely moving as the blunt axe missed.

"Good," he said, nodding. "But we have been at it for almost three hours," he commented, lowering his axe. "Perhaps we should take a break until tomorrow."

"Are you tiring husband?" she asked, a smirk on her face. He chuckled, shaking his head at the sweaty young princess.

"No, but a body needs rest," he insisted, winking at her. "Come, let's get something to eat."

"If you insist," she said, setting her axe against the wall and removing her iron mail. She slipped out of her boots now, letting loose her long hair as she followed Rollo from their antechamber to the table in their suite. She sat down, wiping her face with a dry rag before smiling. "That was invigorating. I can see why you Northmen are so frightening. Such stamina."

"You are a natural," Rollo chuckled, shedding his own leather boots and straps. "You will soon be a fearsome shield maiden."

"The look on father's face when I am upon the walls," she gushed, her eyes alight with excitement. "It will be thrilling."

"The walls?" Rollo asked, his eyes going wide. "Do not get ahead of yourself Gisla. You are still a novice and if my brother's forces breech the walls, I want you as far from the battle as possible."

"What have I been training for then?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "I will not sit back and pray for salvation Rollo. I will fight for it with my own two hands."

"You are willful and stubborn," Rollo groaned, rubbing his temples. "Such a troublesome wife I have."

"And you love me all the same," she commented, pouring some wine in her cup. She took a large drink of it before setting the cup down, a smile across her lips. "So you would not allow me to remain by your side on the battlements?"

"I would have you by my side in everything," he replied, pouring himself some wine. "But in this, I would like you to remain in the palace, away from the battle."

"You would have to tie me to our bed," she smirked, tilting her cup toward him. "To stop me from being by your side the day that those pagans return."

"Then expect a thick rope," Rollo replied, sipping on his wine.

"Perhaps I should heed your command," she chuckled, leaning back in her chair, the redness in her face subsiding. "But I would feel ashamed if my husband was the only one of our family that is represented on the battlefield."

"And I would be ashamed if I failed to protect my young bride," Rollo insisted, taking her hand in his. "Won't you trust me, wife? Let me protect you."

"I trust you," she replied, squeezing his hand. "And I have finally come up with a plan to rid us of Count Odo."

"Did you?" Rollo asked, his eyes going wide. "What did you come up with?"

"When the pagans attack we will command his troops to be the first line of defense," she smirked. "He cannot refuse his commander."

"It is too obvious," Rollo insisted. "He'll be ready for an attack. We must find the opportune moment to strike."

"It is hard to plan," Gisla sighed, looking out the window. "When we know not the pattern of attack or the numbers they possess."

"It will be many more than before," Rollo said. "And they will burn through the countryside if they get the opportunity."

"Then we should meet them, head on," Gisla insisted. "Stop their spreading from the coast and the rivers."

"You are not wrong," Rollo said. "But our priority is to slow them down and trap them within the river. Only then can we attack them without the loss of many casualties. They will be overwhelmed by the ferocity and numbers Frankia possesses. They will also be at a disadvantage because they do not know our battle formations or tactics like we know theirs."

"It is thrilling to hear you talk of battle and strategy," she said, her face alight with wonder. "Teach me more."

"You should be thinking of banquets," Rollo teased. "And dresses and jewels. Not battle and glory."

"You will not let me join you no matter what I do or say," Gisla finally sighed, leaning back in her chair. "You'd leave me behind."

"I would leave you in safe keeping," Rollo corrected, taking her hands in his as he stood up, moving to look down at her. "I would not risk your life for all the gold and all the power in the world."

"And I would give all my gold and power to see you safely into my arms again," she smiled, squeezing his hands. "So come back to me when the time comes. Promise you will come back to me."

"I cannot," he sighed, leaning down and capturing her lips. "But I can promise that I will fight off death as long, and as hard, as I possibly can."

"Sometimes your words overwhelm me," she admitted, standing to look at him. "You make me happy and sad when you say things like that."

"Please understand," he said, pulling her body against his, his hands resting at the base of her spine. "You're my everything and soon the child that you will carry will be my reason for living, my reason for fighting on."

"You're such a kind man," she said, her hands trailing up his shirt and over his shoulders. "You must not leave me alone in this world, understand?"

"If it is my time I welcome my fate with an open heart," Rollo chuckled, kissing her forehead. "But I will not willingly leave you. You are my woman and I will protect you to my last breath."

"Such tender love," she sighed, resting her head against his chest. "The Northmen will land on our shores again and soon we will be parted. I cannot bear the thought but I know that it is what needs to be done."

Rollo nodded, kissing her again, their lips lingering on one another's as they stood there, oblivious to the world around them. It was only when their food had arrived that they broke apart, enjoying their lunch with laughter and excitement. The past couple of weeks had strengthened their relationship, their bond forming anew. Rollo could not count the number of times they had made love or said the words that they so thoroughly believed in. It was overwhelming to know that this wonderful woman was devoted to him and that her attentions, her every affections, were meant only for Rollo.

It was then that the bells began to toll, signifying the afternoon mass. Rollo sighed, standing from his chair again. They had skipped mass every morning but had been forced, after some disapproving looks, to attend the afternoon masses. As they readied themselves for church, they couldn't help but watch one another in their routines. Rollo found Gisla's transformation, when she put on a beautiful dress and baubles, to be mesmerizing, his own mind going blank with lust and love. He wasn't sure how such a woman was given to him and he dared not question the gift.

When they had done dressing they made their way through the palace and past the nobles and ladies who had bowed and greeted them as they approached. Gisla simply smiled at them and Rollo nodded, acknowledging the other nobles as they passed. When they reached the chapel they were greeted by Count Gerau and Princess Ursula who had been waiting for them to show up. They both bowed to the royal couple, enthusiastically greeting them. Gisla hugged Ursula, whose belly was bulging and heavy with their unborn child. Gerau greeted Rollo with a hug, kissing Gisla's hand before pulling his wife close.

"We have not seen you much since your return Duke Rollo," Ursula said, placing a hand on her belly. "We had worried you were displeased with us."

"Nonsense," Rollo chuckled, shaking his head. "We've been preoccupied with marital duties."

"Such an understandable excuse," Ursula smiled. "How was your tour of Rouen and Normandy Duke Rollo?"

"Long but it went well," he assured. "Our coasts are manned and our guard towers are well prepared for the invasion."

"That is good to know," Count Gerau admitted. "It is a great weight off my mind."

"Fear not my friend," Rollo smiled. "We will endure their attack and drive them from our shores."  
"That is the kind of talk that I like to hear," came a voice and the group turned to see the Emperor, his smile wide. "Daughter, son-in-law," he said embracing them. "It is good to see you both today." Then turned to Ursula, placing a hand on her belly, a smile on his face. "Your belly grows with every week niece."

"He grows stronger by the day," she smiled, patting her belly. "I cannot wait to meet him."

"Do the physicians tell you when you are due?" the Emperor asked, looking to Gerau.

"He has told us that by the end of the summer will be joined by our young prince," Gerau smiled, holding his wife close.

"Such prosperity is a blessing from God," the Emperor smiled, removing his hand and looking back to Gisla and Rollo. "Shall we go in? Mass cannot begin without us."

The group followed the Emperor in, the choir singing and the music solemn and loud as they took their spots. It was Easter season and the masses were more elaborate, more lavish the closer it got. This Sunday was the sacred holiday and Rollo had been preparing, listening to the bishop's ceremonies and recommendations. He wanted to impress his father-in-law and all the other nobles at court by performing the ceremonies this Sunday.

After the long service, Rollo led Gisla from the crowded chapel to the open courtyard, the spring sun streaming down from the blue sky. The sight of her smiling as she took in the warmth of the sun was overwhelming and Rollo couldn't help but capture her in his arms, hugging her tightly to him. The ladies and lords in the courtyard watched on as Rollo chuckled at her embarrassment, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek before taking her hand. The flowers and trees were starting to bud and the newly green grounds were irresistible to many of the Emperor's court. As Gisla and Rollo strolled through the gardens, they noticed a guard of Count Odo's wandering around as well. He looked as if he was trying to find someone and when he approached an older man in a long brown cloak, almost like monk's robes, he bowed, walking away with him down the path toward the hedges.

Gisla and Rollo followed, pretending to be distracted by the new buds and beauty of the now available hedgerows that had, only weeks ago, been covered in snow and ice. As they walked behind the two men, far enough back to not be noticed, they heard a few random words escape the soldier's mouth. One, Rollo thought, was truly offensive. They had both heard Gisla's name uttered and Rollo wanted to rush up to them right now to demand answers. Gisla's hand on his arm stopped him and as the two men wound their way into the hedges, Gisla and Rollo picked up the pace, their arms still linked.

"Then what is the plan now?" came the voice from the other side of the hedges. It had to have been the soldier, his voice sounding younger and more commanding.

"We will have to find the right opportunity to separate them," came the older man's voice. "It will take time but Count Odo must be patient. If we are lucky, the pagans will take care of the problem."

"If only it were that easy," the younger man sighed. "I will let the count know that there has been a change of plans. I thank you for your time my lord."

"Remind the count of our deal," the older man called. That is when they could hear footsteps, Rollo immediately grabbing Gisla up in his arms and moving her around the corner to the bench. He immediately leaned over her, covering her face with his body and their lips met. Gisla was confused at first but Rollo quickly silenced her by exploring her mouth with his tongue, gently teasing and testing as the footsteps passed by. A few moments later the second set of steps approached and then passed, the shuffling obviously the older lord.

When they had officially disappeared, Rollo pulled away, looking down at his wife sheepishly. She just grinned, standing on her toes to kiss his lips gently. She then nodded, looking about again.

"Who do you suppose that was about?" Gisla asked, her eyes narrow.

"Everyone knows of his hatred toward you," Rollo smirked, kissing her cheek. "He will not outright say it but he works against us at every turn."

"Then it was about us?" she asked, grasping at his shirt. "He wants to separate us? Who was that man? We must find out…"

"Do not panic," Rollo whispered, sitting down on the bench next to her. She placed her hands on his knee, his hand moving over top of them as he spoke. "We will not be separated. I will have my guard watching over you every day and when the opportunity knocks, I will dispose of Count Odo on the battlefield."

"I am still afraid," she admitted, her eyes narrowing. "I do not know what he has planned and the thought of being separated from you is overwhelming." She bit her lip, tears forming in the corners over her eyes.

"You must be patient," Rollo whispered, pulling her close and allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. "You must be brave too, Gisla," he smiled. "You're so strong already but I need you to be stronger still."

"I don't know if I can," she sighed, grasping his cloak. "I love you too much. It hurts to think about you being gone, to think of you losing your life in this senseless violence."

"Do not be sad," he whispered "Come, let us enjoy the rest of the afternoon in one another's company. Where would you like to go?"

"Riding," she admitted, squeezing his fingers in hers. "Riding with my husband."

"Very well," he nodded, moving to stand. Gisla followed and soon they were heading off toward the stables, talking and laughing the whole way. The day was perfect as Rollo took his wife out riding about the city, the common citizens waving and praying to her as she passed. Rollo couldn't help but smile and wave back at the merchants and servants, all scrambling to get a look at the noble couple. It was when they had left the city, and were traveling along the river's edge, that they spotted some ships sailing upstream. Rollo recognized them as their own and dismounted, walking his horse, and Gisla's toward the banks. As the ships passed, Rollo watching closely, he could tell that something was different. There were only three ships travelling up stream and they were all suspiciously slow. Rollo watched the men dock near the city, unloading some cargo as they did so.

When Gisla noticed is fascination she watched as well, eventually dismounting and coming to stand next to Rollo. When she did he looked down at her, his eyes narrowing. "I do not like the looks of those ships," he said, his hand going to her face. He gently palmed her cheek before kissing her lips tenderly. "Ride back to the city and have the castle guard escort you back to the keep," Rollo insisted. "I will investigate and meet you inside."

"I won't leave you," she protested, placing her hand over his. She squeezed his fingers and kissed his palm, her big brown eyes watching him fearfully.

"You must," he insisted. "If anything were to happen to you I…"

"Please don't ask me to leave," she pleaded, her hands squeezing his arms. "I beg you, don't make me say goodbye. If you do, and you never come back, I will blame myself for not staying by your side."

"I would rather you be alive and missing me than dead," he whispered, pulling her close. "I will come back. I am simply going to ask them what their orders are."

"I will come with you," she insisted, grabbing the dagger form underneath her cloak and showing it to him. "Please, let me help." Rollo knew he wasn't going to get anywhere and longer he waited, the more danger they could be in. Rollo simply nodded, motioning for her to follow as they lead their horses back up the banks toward the docks. When they reached the docks the men spotted them and halted their work, the three ships laden with crates and barrels.

"Where do you come from?" Rollo asked, approaching one of them, the group gathering near and bowing.

"From the Lowlands," the man said, his accent mild. "We carry the seal of Count Gerau and Princess Ursula of Dam." The man was broad and strong, his short brown beard matching his wavy tied back locks.

"Your cargo?" Rollo asked, looking at the ships suspiciously. They looked a little worn to be just cargo ships.

"Personal affects, furniture, home goods, wardrobes, paintings, and cured foods and wines from The Lowlands," he answered, pulling a sealed scroll from his pocket, baring the mark of a flower, a smirk on the man's face. Rollo nodded now, smiling softly.

"Pardon my suspicion," he said, looking at their ships. "You have battle markings and your ships look worn and weighted down. Trouble on the journey?"

"Our ships were fired upon," he admitted, nodding to the crew. "I am the captain and we were sailing just off the coast of Flanders, heading south toward Normandy for the mouth of the Seine when we were set upon but two ships, small and in shambles." The captain then turned to his crew. "But we beat them back, didn't we boys?!"

The group applauded and voiced their agreement, embracing one another and smiling. "You see, the enemy tried to shoot crossbows and tried to board us but our crew held them off. We killed most of them and the rest vanished on their ships but there is a man here, in chains, who is injured."

"I want a full report from you," Rollo demanded, his eyes wide. "I am the Duke of Rouen and this is the Princess Gisla of Paris."

"We know who you are," the man breathed, his smile wide. "We could hardly believe our eyes as we sailed toward the city docks, your watchful gazes over us like giants. You're just as imposing as your legend."

"May we beg a blessing of you, majesty?" the man next to the captain asked, dropping to one knee. "If you would thank God almighty for our deliverance, I would be forever grateful."

"Of course!" Gisla said, coming over to touch the top of the man's head. The crew all fell to their knees, bowing their heads in prayer. The smooth Latin phrases spilled from her lips like wine and the magnificence of the sight was for Rollo to view alone. The bowing sailors were so absorbed in prayer that they missed the beautiful princess's soft blush and smile. They missed her close eyelids and parting lips as she spoke the elegant prayers. She ended softly, her eyes opening to look upon the appreciative crew, their eyes alight with Godly presence.

"Come," Rollo offered. "Bring the prisoner to the keep. The captain of the guard will throw him in the dungeons. Count Gerau and Princess Ursula will be relieved to find you are well. Come, unload your goods."

"Indeed, let me ride ahead," Gisla said, squeezing Rollo's arm. He nodded, motioning for two of the dock guards to follow her. She rode off swiftly through the gates, the passersby moving aside as she approached, the guard hot on her tail. Rollo couldn't help but chuckle as she rode away. She was still not used to riding with a leg on each side of the saddle.

The crew completed their work swiftly, the furniture and trunks being loaded on carts as the barrels of food and drink were rolled into their own cart. Rollo ordered the port guards to aid in the venture and soon they were on their way, Rollo leading the caravan of sailors up the hill, through the merchants and common folk, the herds of geese and sheep parting way as they approached. When they reached the palace gates the guard began hauling and unloading the carts, the crew helping to allocate the different boxes and crates.

"Escort the crew to the kitchens when you are through. They will have a hearty meal," Rollo told the captain of the guard. "Come," Rollo turned to ship's captain, escorting him and his first-mate toward the kitchen entrance. "We shall get you drink and some food and then I will personally escort you to your lord and lady."

"You're too kind," he shook his head. "I would not interrupt their day."

"My wife is speaking to them now," he nodded, walking through the stone courtyard and down the narrow stairs into the hot kitchens. The ovens were burning and the food smelled delicious and Rollo could tell the captain was hungry. "Stay, eat. I will go ahead and find my wife. I'll be back soon to get you."

Rollo nodded to the older woman who ran the kitchen and she presented the sailors with several plates of leftover and fresh meats, cheeses, and pastries. There was also a leftover tankard of ale for them to sip on. Rollo made his way around the tables and shelves toward the stairs, ascending them to the first floor landing and meeting the person he had been looking for. He walked over to Gisla, who was speaking with a smile to Ursula, her hair mussed from riding and her cheeks flushed. She was still wearing her riding gear, a pair of leather breeches and an overcoat that made her dress look bulkier than normal.

"Rollo," she said, waving to him. He came over and smiled, nodding at Ursula; Count Gerau was nowhere in sight.

"Where is the count?" Rollo asked, looking about.

"He has already left for the courtyard," Gisla smiled. "He was eager to help the men that braved the journey for his goods."

"We are so grateful," Ursula insisted, her hand on her stomach. "They were merely goods from home but they mean the world to me and my new family."

"I am sure the men are just thankful to be safe," Rollo smiled. "And they brought back a prisoner. One of their attackers."

"He should be punished," Ursula insisted. "Did any of the crew lose their lives?"

"No reported deaths," Rollo admitted. "The captain thought it a miracle. Would you like to meet him?"

"Of course," she smiled, turning her head to look for the man.

"Wait here," he said, turning from the two women. "I will get them." When the three men came back up the room had drawn a small crowd, Rollo escorting the seemingly dirty men through the parting rows of onlookers. When they had reached Ursula and Gisla the two princesses smiled, bowing to the men. The sailors were astonished and bowed lower, their eyes averted from women.

"I wanted to thank you personally, ship captain, for bringing my goods safely to Paris," Ursula said, smiling down at the men. "My husband and I will never be able to repay your loyalty and bravery."

There was a silence in the room now and the captain of this ship looked up, nodding timidly. "It is a pleasure, your majesty," he said. "We live to serve the family of the great Charlemagne."

"You are most welcome to Paris!" came a voice from behind them and crossing the room, followed by a couple of armed guards, was the Emperor himself. He smiled at the group before him, the room bowing in respects. He then turned to the ship captain, motioning for him to rise. "You fought to get to our shores and you are most welcome to eat, drink, and be merry," the Emperor insisted, nodding at him. The room applauded graciously and then started whispering and talking amongst themselves. The Emperor turned to Gisla, embracing her tightly, his eyes darting about the room.

"Father," Gisla said, kissing his cheek. "I did not expect to see you here."

"I heard about the ships, and the word quickly spread that the crew was being escorted, personally, by my son Rollo," he smirked, nodding at his son-in-law. "I had to investigate; curious nature."

"The crew was carrying the Princess Ursula and Count Gerau's goods and supplies," Rollo said, a smile on his face. "They were heading south, around Flanders, when they were set upon by a couple of pirate ships. It was the crew who fought them off and captured a prisoner. He has made his home in the dungeons."

"What a rousing tale!" the king said, his eyes wide in fascination. "It is truly a miracle from God; a sign!" He then clapped his hands, looking at the ship captain excitedly. "Would you and your crew consider a commission in our navy?"

The captain's eyes grew wide and Rollo smiled. He had thought the same thing. The ship captain was charismatic, brave, and blunt, something valued in an ally. The captain just rubbed the back of his head now, his eyes looking at the floor nervously. He was obviously unsure what to say. Then he looked at the king, a hesitant twinkle in his eye, a smirk spreading across his face.

"I do not believe that our kind of crew would be suitable for your majesty's army," he assured. "We are a rowdy, sinful bunch who were recruited to carry the Princess' goods only because we were the most gullible of crews to take on such a dangerous crossing." He then looked at Rollo. "We know of the Northmen's return and we knew it would be a dangerous trip but the payout was substantial. We did not think to be greeted by royalty."

"Would you consider a pension from the Emperor of Frankia for your services, then?" the Emperor asked, a smirk on his face. "It would also be a substantial payout."

"No offence," the captain said, his demeanor relaxing. "But it is also a greater risk. We've ran into a Northman ship before and it was not a pleasant experience."

"Name your price," the Emperor said, looking at the group. "We would be more at ease if such a crew were guarding our city."

"It would also be a chance for you to gain renown," Rollo insisted. He understood that the king could pay any price but Rollo wanted to avoid spending their gold, if he could help it. "You would get your compensation but you would also gain a reputation; one that would far outclass your competitors."

The captain looked at Rollo curiously, his eyes alight with the possibilities. The whole group was silent, waiting for the captain's answer. It was almost somber the way the chatter buzzed about them and yet their circle could not come to words.

"Our boats, our crew, is not outfitted for full-scale battle," the captain finally said, sighing softly. "I would be very expensive to be ready in time as I am sure you know as well as I that the ice is melting."

"You and your crew will be outfitted with new iron armor and weapons," Rollo assured. "I will provide you with them myself. As for the ship, there is a boat, just recently broken in, that is faster than all the others. It turns faster, and tighter, and it is simple to control in narrower rivers. If you crew is willing, I would be more than willing to loan you this boat until the time comes for your departure. By then your own ships would be repaired and ready to return you to your homes."

"Such generosity," the captain smiled, his eyes slightly wide. "You would do all this to ensure our help in this upcoming fight?"

"I would do anything to defend Paris," Rollo admitted, a smile forming on his face.

"You're a marvel," the captain chuckled, clapping Rollo on the shoulder heartily. "I will join you! My crew will join you. There will be many battles and many rewards ahead of us!"

"That is wonderful to hear!" the Emperor gushed, his arm going to Rollo's arm and the captain's shoulder, excitedly embracing them. "God has sent us a blessing and it is we, the faithful, who follow his will. We shall give thanks for this new friendship with a feast!"

"Your majesty is too kind," the captain chuckled.

"Nonsense," the king insisted. "Come, what is your name my good sir?"

"My real name is foreign, and sloppy. Most call me Captain Krey," he admitted, his eyes alight with excitement and awe.

"Then I will throw a banquet, in honor of you and your crew," the Emperor said with a nod. "We will feast and celebrate our newly formed alliance."

"We would be most honored," he replied, his eyes finding Rollo. "We are most grateful to you all."

"I will escort you back to your crew," came Gerau's voice, moving through the crowd toward the group. "I cannot thank you enough sir."

"Thank you my lord," the captain said, bowing.

"Come," he insisted, ushering him toward the kitchens. "Let us talk. I want to know everything…" As they sauntered away, the two sailors following Count Gerau, the king turned to Rollo, waving for him to lean near.

"My king?" Rollo asked, leaning down to speak with him.

"I must speak with you and my daughter," he whispered. "Something has come up and we must speak."

Rollo simply nodded, a smile spreading across his face. The king looked nervous and Rollo did not want to alarm anyone. It would do no good to have his people see him in such a state.

"Wife," Rollo turned, offering his arm. "I have offered to show the Emperor our progress in Normandy. Will you escort us to his suite? We are eager to cement our final plans."

Gisla looked at him curiously now, her hand going to his arm as she linked them together. He narrowed his eyes slightly, looking at the king before looking back at her. He had hoped she would catch on and when she did, she immediately nodded, smiling softly.

"Absolutely husband, father," she assured. "We shall have lunch together. Does that suit?"

"Wonderfully," the Emperor breathed, offering his arm to Gisla as well. She placed her hand upon it and the three of them excused themselves, turning from Ursula and her companions toward the main hall. As they made their way past the parting crowds of people, Rollo could feel Gisla's hand squeezing his arm, gently signaling her curiosity. Rollo considered torturing her, allowing her to think it was more than what it seemed. As they turned the corner toward the main staircase that lead to the west wing suites, just opposite of Rollo and Gisla's, Rollo leaned down to speak to her quietly.

"Your father wishes to speak to us," Rollo whispered. "Said it was urgent."

She turned her head now, whispering back quickly. "Many things are urgent."

Rollo just nodded and continued pace, the Emperor nodding and speaking briefly to the passersby. The guard close behind as they escorted the royal family to the Emperor's suite. When they arrived there were two guards standing outside the doors, both bowing and then swinging them open in quick succession. Rollo nodded to them as they passed, the doors creaking shut behind them.

"Father?" Gisla asked, turning and placing a hand on his other arm as well. "What is wrong? You look unwell."

It was true, the king looked pale and sickly, tired and fearful; it reminded Rollo of the hunted deer before the kill. He winced inwardly at the thought of their whole world, their whole claim to any sort of future, going up in flames. Rollo immediately moved to the table, picking up the Emperor's large plush chair, and bringing it to him. The Emperor weakly smiled and sat down now, his eyes on the floor.

"Majesty?" Rollo asked, kneeling next to him as Gisla placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I am surrounded by snakes," he whispered, the harsh severity of his tone resonating between them.

"You are Emperor," Gisla said, her voice commanding. "It will always be so."

"Are you a snake?" the aging king asked, his eyes finding hers. "My own daughter?"

"Father," she breathed, kneeling down and taking his hand in hers. She looked into his eyes and Rollo could see the fierce love and need to protect him resonating within. "I am your daughter. I love you dearly and will always protect you."

"My daughter," the Emperor said, his voice cracking. "My daughter vows to protect me. What kind of Emperor must I be?"

"A kind one," Rollo interjected, standing up. "Kind and forgiving, much like Christ himself."

"Paris does not need kind!" the king protested, his fingers going to the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I need ferocity, I need fear, and most of all I need to win!"

"We will win," Gisla assured, squeezing his hand. "We are well defended, well prepared, and well equipped. The Northmen do not stand a chance."

"I am not worried about the Northmen! Those pagan savages are nothing to God or my kingdom," he spat, standing up now, regaining his balance. "I am worried about my own lords turning against me and turning toward another to fill the shoes of my grandfather, Charlemagne."

"You are the Emperor!" Gisla said, her voice stiff and commanding. "When the Northmen are beaten back from our shores you will be praised as the savior of our kingdom. It is your descendants that will reign from Normandy to the Mediterranean; none other."

"Such certainty," he said, his eyes wide in disbelief. "But I have been told many things that would not suit your ears; terrible plots and plans."

"I have heard the like," Gisla replied. "And it will be taken care of."

"What have you heard?" Rollo asked, his eyes narrowed. If the Emperor knew something that he didn't, it was time that he told him exactly what he knew.

"I've been approached by anonymous parties and told many stories of one of my trusted commanders," the Emperor said, moving toward his window. He looked out it with melancholy, his face worn from age. "It has been overheard that Count Odo is against me, that he speaks of my demise and that his ambition is to become Emperor."

"He is scum," Gisla assured, her eyes narrowed. "I have never trusted him and never will. We should be rid of him."

"We must be careful," the Emperor said, looking between them. "This is no small matter. Count Odo commands the city guard and owns much of the farmland that the city depends on."

"But it is I who command the army," Rollo interjected, a smile on his face. "I command the navy and the army and my soldiers are loyal to me. If Odo has loyal followers among his ranks then it is safe to say that he will make a move during the chaos."

"Then we must not allow him to maneuver," Gisla insisted. "We must tie his hands so that he cannot strike."

"Some have spoken against you as well," the Emperor commented, looking at his daughter. "They say that you whisper in my ear and I do your bidding. That I am a puppet of your ambition. Tell me, daughter, who should I believe?"

"I am your daughter, the descendant of Charlemagne," she growled, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "I am the rightful heir to this kingdom and my sons and grandsons will rule when I am called to God. I would die to protect this city and my family, including you father. You are indeed confused if you believe that I am your enemy as well."

He looked between Gisla and Rollo now, his eyes widening and narrowing as he tried to comprehend some unseen plot, some scheme they had hatched. He must not have found one because he simple laughed, his head thrown back in mad laughter. Gisla watched him closely, unsure what to make of her father's behavior. Rollo moved to grasp her hand now, squeezing it gently before approaching the Emperor. He looked at him with wide eyes, as if the large man were going to strike him down where he stood. Rollo simply smiled, patting the Emperor's shoulder.

"We are family now," Rollo insisted. "I am on your side and together we will figure out a way to defend Paris, and your reign, against any who oppose us."

"How do I know I can trust you, Rollo the Viking?" he asked, his hand going to Rollo's arm.

"Because, I love your daughter," he admitted, his face alight and his smile wide. "I would protect her and all those she loves with my own life."

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	12. Chapter 12

**Woo... another chapter. I hope you enjoy. :) Please review. I would really appreciate some.**

 **VIKINGS IS OWNED BY HISTORY CHANNEL. I ONLY OWN THE ORIGINAL PLOT.**

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Rollo was galloping through the square, his legion close behind as they made their way down the main road toward the front gates of the city. When they had finally got there, Rollo dismounted and ascended the stairs to the upper gates, coming out on top of the wide and well-manned wall. He looked down each lane, the bows, slings, and weapons all at the ready. The troops were flooding over the ramparts and down the lanes, ready to take their places atop the wall to defend Paris.

Rollo walked among them, eyeing their techniques and readiness as he did. When he reached the tower above the gate he was greeted by Count Odo and his lieutenant. He was familiar, always attending Odo, the rumor being that his sister was the count's mistress. Odo bowed to Rollo and smiled, looking out the narrow window.

"Take a look, the Northmen will not stand a chance," he insisted. Rollo peered out the window to see, in the distance, the first set of towers, blocking off the entrance that gives access to the city. Further off he could see the faint tops of the next towers and he knew beyond that the towers stretched all the way to the ocean. He also noticed the expanse of the army, all the available legions reporting for deployment. It had been a couple of weeks since his fated meeting with his new navy lieutenant, the adaptation of Krey's techniques making their naval warfare more effective.

"We need to deploy the troops and ready all the supplies for the attack," Odo insisted. "Even if most of them are stopped by the chains, we need to make sure we crush any sort of escape."

"I agree," Rollo said, looking back at the older man. "I have given it a lot of thought and have decided that should the need arise to repel them from the city walls, it will be the city guard that triumphs yet again. The army will only assist when the length of the river is secure."

"And your own troops?" Odo asked, an eyebrow raised.

"We will be here, within the city as well," Rollo assured. "My troops are the best trained."

"You will not be with the navy, facing the pagans head on?"

"When they are spotted," Rollo sighed, shaking his head. "I had planned on fending them off the entire campaign but I will only assist when it is absolutely necessary. We have an experienced sailor in our ranks now so it would be unwise to put myself in danger."

"Surely you do not want to abstain from the fight, not after waiting all this time," Odo said, his eyes going wide.

"I must," Rollo chuckled, looking back out the window. "But I appreciate your concern Count Odo."

"I understand," he replied, nodding. He then looked back out the window, both men silent for a moment. Then Odo turned back to Rollo and shrugged, watching the younger man closely. "It will be a battle to remember."

"I believe you are right," Rollo nodded, turning away from the window. "The troops are prepared so I better give them their orders." Odo simply nodded back and Rollo left him to his thoughts, unable to stand being next to the deceitful count another moment. When the troops were assembled just on the other side of the bridge, Rollo spoke, his voice loud and stern.

"The time has come to defend your city and country from the pagan invaders," he yelled, looking at the dozens of faces before him. "If you falter, if you doubt yourself even once, God will not favor our victory. You will die and your families will be at the mercy of the Northmen. So be brave and do not let them overrun the rivers. Use your instincts and training to protect the ones you love. If you do so, God will protect you!"

There was a loud round of chants and hoorahs before Rollo turned to his captains, allocating among them the scrolls of their deployment. Rollo had thought it safest to spread the army down the Seine, out of sight, but ready to attack if it is needed. Rollo wanted the chains and navy to take care of his brother's ships and then the army could pick off the stranded warriors. After thanking the captains for their help he went back into the city, finding his horse tied up near the tower entrance. He mounted it and gave orders to his guard to assure that the last touches on all the defenses were set. Afterward they were to report to him and then take up position within the palace, in case Rollo would need them at short notice. As he rode through the crowds of pilgrims, commoners, and merchants, he noticed an eerie calm had settled over them. They'd been quite uneasy for the past few weeks but an awkward calm had overcome them recently and Rollo couldn't quite explain it.

He couldn't help but observe the faces of each passerby, making his way through crowds and troops into the palace grounds. Each servant he passed had the same look, an odd sense of hidden panic that Rollo couldn't shake. It was only when he entered his chambers to find a half-naked Gisla laying on their bed that his mind was averted from the troubled faces.

"You're bold today," he commented, shutting the door quickly. "Are you well?"

"Very well," she smiled, rolling over so that she was on her stomach, watching him.

"Is there something special going on today?" he asked, looking about. "Have I forgotten a holiday?"

"No, not at all," she said, rolling over to stare at the ceiling. She was wearing a thin linen gown that showed off all of her curves, Rollo's passions stirred as she innocently played with her hair and watched the light dance across the ceiling. He approached her now, kicking off his dirty boots and pulling off his jacket. Her eyes lazily watched him as he got closer, shedding more clothing until he was down to nothing but his pants. He then placed a hand on the bed near her shoulder, leaning over and capturing her lips passionately.

She reciprocated, teasing his lip with her tongue as she asked for entrance. When she had gotten what she wanted, her hands went to the back of his head, grasping his thick hair and pulling him down on top of her. They remained wrapped in one another for a while, kissing and touching, their own bodies melding together until they were worn from their adventures. Gisla simply smiled at him, moving to get up from the bed. Rollo held her hand though, watching her curiously. She had been acting weird all day. He had risen to find her unwilling to train that day; she'd said she had other plans and that it would have to wait. She'd just begun sword training, her form still weak but her instincts sharp. She'd also been gone all day, not meeting him for lunch like she had started doing ever since that first night months ago.

"You are looking at me in an odd way," she commented, squeezing his hand. "Is there something wrong?"

"Is there?" Rollo asked, looking over her face. "You've been acting odd all day."

"Have I?" she asked, her eyes widening. "I did not mean to frighten you."

"I only worry that you may be unwell," he said, propping himself up on his side. "I do not want you to keep it secret if you are, no matter what is going on."

"What do you mean?" she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I know you," Rollo said, smiling. "If you are unwell or if there was anything wrong you would not voice it. You would keep it to yourself and try to solve the problem on your own. I do not want you to do that."

"But what if it wasn't a problem," Gisla said, placing a hand on the side of his face. "What if I am simply trying to surprise my husband with something wonderful?"

"I am sometimes impatient," Rollo insisted, grinning up at her. "What is the surprise?"

"Perhaps I should wait," she said, her eyes drifting to the windows, looking out them in a forlorn manner. Rollo sat up now, his arms seeking her as he pulled her into his lap, her back against his chest, and his arms around her waist holding her fingers between his.

"Would you torture me even longer?" he asked, whispering softly in her ear.

"I am so excited to tell you but I want it to be perfect," she replied, her hands squeezing his.

Rollo remained silent, his lips trailing down her neck and shoulder, their breathing mirroring one another. Rollo felt content, holding her close to him as they watch the afternoon sun sink into the horizon. When she turned to look at him, her eyes alight with love and passion, he couldn't help but kiss her lips again. She was so perfect, her pouting lips soft against his, her milky white skin like silk as his fingers traced up her forearms and over her shoulders, making her shiver. She sighed into his kiss, passionately reciprocating his every move, his hands finding her waist as he held her against his chest. When she broke away, her cheeks flushed and her breath stolen, he could see the flicker of sadness in her eyes. He looking directly at her, his lips close to hers.

"What is it Gisla? Please, tell me…"

She turned in his lap now, kneeling between his legs as she looked at him, her hands capturing his face gently. "I have not bled since before you left for Normandy," she said, her eyes searching his. "It has been two moons and I have not bled. I believe I am with child."

Rollo couldn't stop the large smile that had spread over his face, his hands going to the small of her back as he watched her face. She was unsure, her eyes frantically searching his for answers but all he could do was capture her lips again, his passion reignited. The woman in his arms was more than he could ever have hoped for and now she was going to be the mother of his child; he could not remember feeling happier.

"Rollo," she protested, pushing on his shoulders as he scooped her up and lay her on the bed beneath him. "Rollo please, I want to talk to you about this."

"About what?" Rollo asked, his face alight with excitement and happiness.

"About what you'd like me to do," she said, her hands finding his neck, holding his face close to hers. "Should I stay in the city or should I go hide myself away? Would you feel more comfortable if I was far away or would you rather I stay here? I honestly don't know what to do; it frightens me."

"I would not have you from my arms," Rollo insisted, his eyes becoming serious. "I would have you here, surrounded by those who can protect you."

"I was hoping you would not send me away," she sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I could not part with you even if you insisted; I love you too much."

"Then why did you not want to tell me?" he asked, his hands caressing her soft skin. "Why did you look so sad?"

"I did not want you to send me away," she confessed, her eyes finding his. "I know I was being selfish; I should do what is best for our child instead of what is best for me."

"What is best for our child is for you to stay close to me," Rollo insisted, his hands pulling her tighter against him. "I trust no one else."

"You need to stay focused," Gisla said, her eyes roaming his face. "You cannot always be at my side."

"If anyone were to try and stop me, they would be torn apart by the fury of my blades," Rollo assured, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

"We must tread lightly," she whispered. "No one must know until the last possible moment."

"With the impending raid it is important to keep this secret," he agreed. "I would not have your safety compromised more than it already is."

"So how do you want to approach this?" she asked, leaning against his chest, her cheek pressed against his shoulder as she stared at his tattoos.

"We shall say nothing," Rollo said, kissing her cheek. "Have you spoken to a physician yet?"

"No, I was not sure until just recently," Gisla admitted. "Though, I am sure my ladies have noticed that I do not bleed."

"Do you trust them?"

"I do," she nodded. "They've been by my side since I was a child."

"Then you will send them to seek out a midwife," Rollo insisted. "They will bring her to you in secrecy to assure that the child is well."

"And then? What about our training? What about the raid? The stress upon me would harm the child."

"We will not train," Rollo said, kissing her cheek. "And you must not stress. You must trust that we will be successful."

"I do not think I can have such blind faith," she admitted, her lips grazing his. "I am being realistic; you may never come back and then I will be in more danger than I am now."

"Should we prepare for such a possibility?" Rollo whispered back, his eyes searching hers. "I would not leave you or my child in this world at the mercy of Count Odo or my brother…"

"Then we must have a plan," she insisted, grasping his bare shoulders. "I have been thinking about what I should do all day and every plan I come up with is more painful than the last."

"It sounds like everything rides on my success," Rollo sighed, pressing his forehead to hers. "I will not fail; for the sake of our child I will not die."

"I will hold you to that promise," she pressed, her hands going around his waist. "You'll come back to me, come back to our son and be a father to him."

Rollo placed a palm on her stomach, his fingers spread over her skin as he felt the swell of it. It wasn't pronounced and she hadn't started showing but knowing that his child was inside made him feel fiercely protective over her and her condition. He then roughly grabbed the back of her neck, lacing his fingers through her hair as he watched her face. She mirrored his intense stare, both sitting in one another's arms as the sun faded in the sky. When there was finally a knock at the door, what felt like hours later, Rollo looked down to find Gisla had fallen asleep in his arms, her soft breaths brushing his chest. He moved as quickly, and as steadily, as possible, laying her down on the bed gently before covering her with linens. She sighed softly as he did, his fingertips grazing her collar before he turned to answer the door.

He opened it slowly, fearing the creaking of the wooden door might wake Gisla. The guard standing on the other side of the doors was one of his, the man bowing quickly before presenting him with a piece of parchment. Rollo thanked the man before closing the door and unraveling the scroll in his hands. He looked over the markings, the language still somewhat foreign to him but he got the basic summary of what the scroll was. It was the report from his troops that had done the final inspection on all the towers.

Rollo set the scroll on the table and sat back in his chair, his eyes lovingly watching his young wife sleep on their bed. She almost glowed with beauty, her chest rising and falling with every deep breath as she dreamed. Rollo felt an urgent need to plan for Gisla's safety, unsure what steps he should take. Over the past few months he had found that he trusted fewer people in the Parisian court than he cared to admit. He did not trust his fellow council members nor did he trust Odo or his ambitions. After speaking with the Emperor about his suspicions, Rollo has been keeping a close eye on the count, always knowing his whereabouts and plans. He knew he couldn't account for everything that his fellow lords did but he knew he had to try his hardest to assure that Gisla and his child were protected.

Rollo sat up most of the night, the candles burning down to the minimum before he finally gave up and crawled into bed with Gisla. He had been working on several plans, some involving close family and others involving secret escorts to somewhere safer; they were all going to frighten and anger his princess and he knew that would hurt the child as well. He was stumped and so sleep was the only alleviation from his fears.

He was woken the next morning by Gisla who had rushed from bed, her body shaking with sickness. He could hear her throwing up into the wash basin, her body shaking with sweat and sickness as he stood up out of bed and placed his hands on her shoulders. She only glanced at him before retching into the basin yet again. Rollo held her hair, the cold sweat on her forehead reflecting the misery she felt as her small body heaved. When she had finally finished, her body weak from exhaustion, Rollo picked her up in his arms, laying her gently back on the bed. He pushed her hair from her face before grabbing a clean linen cloth and wetting it in the pitcher of water that was on their table. He wiped her mouth and brow before gently dabbing the sweat from her neck and shoulders.

"My stomach is turning," she groaned, her eyes closing sleepily. "I'm disgusting, I feel so hot and sickly."

"You're beautiful," he whispered, gently moving over her to lay behind her as she rolled to her side, clutching the pillow to her head. He gently massaged her shoulders now, her brow relaxing as his hands went lower, and massaging her spine, her body shaking with relief as his fingers ran over her tense muscles. It wasn't long after that that her breathing became even, deep and relaxed. She had fallen back asleep, the morning stretching across the room from the windows. Rollo slowly moved from the bed and walked about the chamber, closing the thick blinds until the room was dim again. He had cuddled back up to her, accidently stirring her as he did so, his hands immediately massaging the base of her spine. She hummed softly, relaxing again and drifting back into sleep as he touched and massaged.

Rollo didn't remember falling asleep but when he woke again Gisla was gone from his arms, the warmth of the bed completely absent. He quickly sat up, looking around the room. There was no sign of his wife, the fire dying out as the sun rose higher in the sky. He felt uneasy now, not knowing where his pregnant wife could have gotten off to. As he washed his face and hastily dressed, he heard a knock at the door.

"Come in!" he called, turning from the golden mirror, trying to tie his tunic around his neck. As he turned to the door a young maid walked in, bowing and offering him a plate of food and drink. "Where is my wife?" he asked, taking the pitcher from the tray and pouring himself a glass. "Where is Princess Gisla?"

"Princess Gisla is in a meeting with her father, the Emperor," the maid said. "She gave instruction to not disturb you and if you should wake before she returns, to tell you to wait for her. She left some time ago so she should be returning any moment now, my lord."

"Where is she meeting him?" Rollo asked, finishing the ties on his tunic. "And how long has she been gone?"

"She left some time ago," the maid repeated. "I know not exactly when but it was earlier this morning. She was not feeling well when she woke up, sick as is normal for her condition."

"Have you located a midwife?" Rollo asked, taking a drink from the filled goblet.

"We ladies are going to the markets today," she replied with a nod. "We will be discrete and make a selection based on the Princess' specifications."

"If my wife hasn't made it clear to her ladies," Rollo said, a dangerous drawl to his voice. "Then I will elaborate. No one is to know of this. The Princess' ladies and I must be the only ones who know, apart from the midwife. Is that understood?"

"She has informed us of the secrecy involved," the maid bowed. "We have been by the Princess's side since she was a child. We are devoted and loyal as is our Christian duty."

"If you happen to change your minds," Rollo whispered, his eyes narrowing. "I'll make sure even your God won't be able to hear you scream."

The maiden looked frightened now, her eyes averted away from Rollo as he took the platter from her hands, setting it on the table and picking through the pastries, meats, and cheeses. She bowed again before leaving the room, a swiftness Rollo had not noticed before. He was uneasy with anyone knowing about Gisla; one disgruntled servant or bruised ego and suddenly the whole kingdom might know. He needed to eliminate Odo before the court found out that she was carrying his child; only with Odo out of the way could their child's claim be cemented.

As Rollo ate his food, contemplating his wife's command, he couldn't help but wonder what had prompted her to visit her father. Could she be chancing his silence because she believes him to have the power to save her and their child? Or was she overcome by some sort of loyalty that she believed she owed to her father? It was all making him nervous and the more nervous he became, the quicker he ate.

When he was finished he quickly drank some wine from his glass before rushing past the maid and into the hall. He did not have a good feeling; something just wasn't sitting right with him. As he moved down the corridor to the west wing of the first floor, where the Emperor's suite was, he could see groups of nobles and ladies chatting along the corridors and in the halls, enjoying the hospitality of the king's wine. Rollo was about to walk through the king's double doors when a guard stopped him, holding out a sword.

"Sorry," he apologized, bowing humbly. "But we are to let no one enter."

"My wife is in there," Rollo protested, his eyes narrowed on the man. "I'll ask you to move once."

"No," the guard said. "She is not within. She left several minutes ago."

"Where did she go?" he asked, looking about the corridor.

"She headed toward the gallery," the guard replied, nodding in the direction Rollo had just come from.

"I did not see her," Rollo growled, his tone becoming sharp.

"I swear my lord," the guard said. "She walked out and down those stairs you just came up."

"If you're lying," Rollo spat, grabbing the man by his collar and raising him off the ground a little. "I'll kill you."

The man looked truly fearful, nodding as the Duke lowered him back to the ground before turning on his heal and stalking down the hallway. Rollo couldn't explain this need to find his wife, though he suspected it was because of her condition. Though he'd just found out about it, she had been training with him for the entire time that she was pregnant. He did not regret that but only worried if her body could handle the stress of both the child and training. As Rollo stalked down the stairs toward the main hall, he could hear the commotion of court. He searched the hall when he entered, some eyes near the staircase immediately finding him. They bowed as he made his way slowly through the crowd, searching the faces for Gisla. She was not in the hall as he searched, trying to remain as natural as possible. He spotted Count Gerau speaking to a man dressed in simple clothes and approached them.

"Duke Rollo," Gerau said with a smile and a bow. "How are you today?"

"Quite well," Rollo responded with a nod. "I was supposed to meet my wife. Have you seen her?"

"No, not since earlier this morning, she was speaking to the Emperor after mass," Gerau admitted.

"Thank you so much," Rollo said, nodding. "But I must go find her. I will find you later if you are not occupied."

"Not at all," Gerau bowed as Rollo hurried off, paying no heed to the commonly dressed man.

He made his way from the main hall and into the massive foyer, where most noble guests and such were laden with gifts and welcoming favors. Rollo saw that there were a few servants roaming about and a couple standing near the entrance, talking quietly, but no one that he recognized. He turned back now, making his way into the throne room, the windows making the gold and silver decoration on the wall sparkle. Unfortunately, it was empty, the guards closing the doors behind him. He peered around, expecting his wife to pop out and surprise him but to his distress she did not. He was now beginning to feel worried; his wife could not have gone far. He immediately turned to the doorway that lead to the Emperor's antechamber, walking through the curtain to see the room was empty as well. This was a big castle, Rollo thought; he didn't want to have to search every room.

"Duke Rollo," came a voice and Rollo turned to spot Odo, his eyes watching him closely. "I did not expect to find you here. Tell me, have you seen the Emperor?"

"No, I assume he is in his chambers," Rollo said, looking over Odo carefully. "His guards would not permit me access."

"I see," the count said, shrugging. "Well, it is no matter. I shall see him later. What are you doing here Duke Rollo?"

"I was restless," Rollo said, looking about. "I wanted to walk the castle, think a while…"

"The battle looms and the warrior waits," Odo chuckled. "It will come soon Duke Rollo and there will be plenty of pagans to burn."

"I do not like waiting," Rollo said, his double-meaning seething in his stomach. "The urge to kill is so overpowering, so demanding, that sometimes it sends even the most controlled warrior over the edge."

"Such rage," Odo smiled, turning from Rollo. "We must use it at the right time, no?"

Rollo simply watched as the count left, disappearing behind the curtain. Rollo ground his teeth, the count's smug grin setting him further on edge. He needed to find Gisla and fast; at least then her safety would not be on his mind. Rollo just shook his head, turning and making his way through the wooden door at the far end of the chamber, and up the flight of stairs. It led back to the first floor, a small door behind a tapestry that could be easily accessed from the Emperor's chambers. Rollo looked up and down the hall, the guards still posted and watchful. Rollo wasn't sure what to think, or where his wife could be and the more empty store-rooms, bed chambers, and corridors he checked, she was nowhere to be found. He'd searched the whole first floor, including the Emperor's wing as well as the free rooms on the second and third floor. Mostly servant's chambers and libraries but Rollo could not find her. He wondered if she'd left the castle entirely.

This made his heart skip a beat, his eyes narrowing as he stared out the window, the keep's walls high but still below him. He was only on the second floor but the city didn't look small. From here he could see every rooftop and shining clay chimney. He could also see the smoke rising and the sun sinking in the distance. It wouldn't be long before the lights from the houses and taverns turned on, making the streets glow with dull golden light.

"Rollo," came a voice from behind him and he almost yelled out, his eyes upon the woman he'd been looking for all afternoon. She was standing in the hall, her riding gear on and her cloak still over her shoulders. "I went straight back to our chambers but the maid said you'd gone, stalked off. I told her to tell you to stay; that I'd be right back!" Gisla was fuming a little, her face a bit red but probably from her urgency to find him. "Why didn't you stay?"

Rollo didn't hear most of her words, his body reacting as he strode over to her and wrapped her in his arms. She was taken aback, her eyes wide as he kissed her lips hungrily. When he pulled away she pushed him back, her eyes narrowed. She still wasn't pleased.

"Why didn't you stay?" she repeated.

"I woke and you were gone and then I get a command from you, like a dog, telling me to stay and wait for you. I was worried that something was going on and that you were foolishly trying to handle it yourself. I was also thinking of many scenarios that involved you being taken, hurt, or worse." Rollo had stepped back now, his face stern and his words harsh. "You cannot just wander off wherever and whenever you please. Not when you are my wife."

"Excuse me?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "You do not own me Rollo. No one does; I am a Princess and I will do as I please."

"Not in your condition," he hissed, grabbing her arm. "Not when so many are against your father and against us."

"I had guards with me the whole time," Gisla insisted, looking about the hall. "Look." She motioned behind her and sure enough, standing just down the hall and somewhat out of sight were two of Rollo's guards. "I am not stupid Rollo; I trust only you."

Rollo sighed, his head hanging as he held her shoulders. "I am glad you took precautions," he said, looking up at her. "But please, we have to be much more careful."

"Were you so worried?" she asked, her eyes growing wide. He must have had a fearful look on his face because he could see the fear growing on her face as she looked at him.

"I admit it," he nodded, standing up straight now. "I was worried."

"Come," she said, taking his hand. "Let us speak in private."

They made their way down to their suite, speaking in hushed tones as they held one another in bed. Rollo wanted, more than anything, to keep her here with him until the child was born and safe. He didn't want to leave her side but he knew that he had to keep her safe. With Count Odo hovering over them and the Emperor suspicious of Odo's motives, they had to move quietly. He had to make it look like an accident, make Odo's death look like an act of God, not a vengeful Duke.

He also had to assure the Emperor's reign and repel his brother's army. This was not going to be easy but if given the chance, Rollo would kill Odo with his bare hands to assure himself of the man's downfall. Unfortunately, that was not the way things were done in this Christian country; his wife schooling him on his brash and sometimes too obvious ways. It was Gisla's gentle touch that stirred him from his thoughts. She had reached up and cupped his face, her eyes finding his as they lay there. The day was fading, the final light of it casting orange rays across the ceiling of the room and illuminating Gisla's face. She looked more stunning than ever, wrapped in his arms and watching him closely; Rollo couldn't help but smile at her as he thought of the child growing in her belly.

"You are so happy now," Gisla said, her eyes roaming his face.

"I have everything I could ever need, why should I not be happy?"

"We still have many problems," she said with a smile. "My father has finally turned against Count Odo so that makes it a bit easier."

"A bit more dangerous," Rollo suggested. "If the other nobles found out that the king was eliminating any sort of competition, they would rise up in fear for their own lands and titles."

"Odo's fall will be at the hands of some pagan barbarian," Gisla assured. "Or at least that is how it will seem. Perhaps, if God presents the opportunity, you could take vengeance yourself."

"If it were presented," Rollo whispered, his forehead pressed against hers. "I would take his heart in my hand and eat it raw."

She simply smirked, kissing his lips gently before biting his lower one and tugging on it playfully. He couldn't help but grasp her hips and set her atop him, her body leaned over his as she straddled his hips. She was about to untie his tunic when there was a knocking at the door, loud and forceful. Rollo looked at her curiously before standing up to allow him to move off the bed. He strode to the door and opened it to see one of his own guard breathing heavily and doubling over in exhaustion.

"Duke Rollo," he said, bowing lower. "The Northmen have been spotted and are sailing south toward the river's mouth. We have fired upon them when they have dared to get close and have reallocated many of the troops from the second set of towers to the first, as you've instructed."

"Very well," Rollo said, clapping the man on the shoulder. "Hold your position at the first set of towers near the delta. Here we will confuse them. I will be along shortly, riding up river with Captain Krey and his fleet. Tell your captain and be quick about it!"

The soldier simply bowed and fled the room, his feet heavy with his mission as Rollo shut the double doors again. Gisla was in his arms immediately, her hands reaching as far around his torso as she could, pulling him against her desperately. Rollo saw tears forming in the corners of her eyes, the brown pools of heat begging him to stay. He simply kissed her forehead, her sobs overtaking her until she was shaking in his arms.

"Rollo," she cried against his chest, the warm tears soaking his shirt. "Don't g-go… I'm s-so afraid."

"You must be strong," Rollo said, his voice commanding as he looked down at her tears. "You must do as we have discussed." He captured her lips now, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. She didn't want to stop, holding his neck so that their lips remained sealed together in passion and fear. He finally pulled away from her, taking her hands in his. "Do you remember?" he asked, looking over her face.

"If they breech the walls I am to run, take the catacombs to the river with my guards. There is a boat. I will be escorted to an abbey where the good Christian sisters will hide us until you come."

"If I never come," Rollo whispered, his forehead touching hers. "Do not come looking for me. Wait, wait until God comes to take you for I will do everything I can to find you."

"Please," she sobbed, clutching his chest as she cried. "Don't leave me alone."

"You will be a mother soon," Rollo said, grasping her shoulders and leaning back so he could see her face again. "Be strong, use what I have taught you to survive and deliver our child into this world."

Her eyes went a bit wide now but he could see that she understood. She needed to be strong from here on out; if something were to happen and King Ragnar breached the walls, yet again, he would surely take vengeance upon his brother's Christian wife and child.

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 **PLEASE REVIEW. :D Hope you liked it! RolloxGisla babies!**


	13. Chapter 13

**I'm going to extend this story to 18-20 chapters. Depends on where it ends best. :D So I hope you enjoy. This chapter is nothing but Rollo and the action of strategy and battle! Here we go! Please review.**

 **VIKINGS IS OWNED BY HISTORY CHANNEL. I OWN ONLY THE ORIGINAL PLOT.**

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"Raise the chain!" Rollo yelled, the oncoming fleet fierce and screaming as they made their way upriver. Rollo was on the deck of the main boat, Captain Krey's crew steering and manning the ores. They had made it up river to the mouth of the Seine, their first guard towers stretching over the banks of the narrowing river as it meandered in from the ocean. Rollo could see the ships, all piled against one another in the water as the chain started to raise.

The main enemy ship ran headlong into the chain, tilting as it rose and nearly flipping on top of the one next to it. This pushed the ships to the side, the pileup becoming messy as the boats behind could not see the pileup until it was too late. As the wood creaked and cracked, smacking into one another as the chain rose, Rollo watched as his archers shot arrows from atop the banks and towers. The enemy were forming shield walls, many falling overboard as the ships smacked into one another.

Rollo waved his arm and soon there were flaming arrows, being flung from the banks. Unfortunately, Ragnar's fleet had a few tricks of their own. They also had crossbows but they had greater aim, the men on the shore open targets for what looked like Erlander's archers. He could see the young blonde commanding his men, firing a bow as well from the protection of the shield wall. Rollo could also see Lagertha, commanding her ship of shield-maidens as they steered to try and avoid the pileup. There were a half-dozen boats crammed together in the mouth of the delta, the chain at its tightest as the warriors fired volleys of arrows at the Viking invaders.

Rollo's eyes scanned the ships, his own warriors shielding him as he searched the crowd for the person he was looking for. It was hard to pick out faces from the crowd but the one he most wanted to see wasn't his brother's; Rollo spotted him just as he was raising his shield, his blonde hair and growing beard showing the passing time. Bjorn was a man now, strong and large, his cries fierce as he urged on his fellow warriors. Rollo loved his nephew, he always had. He was the spitting image of Rollo, his fierce love for battle and glory sometimes matching Rollo's.

"Duke Rollo," came a voice and he looked over to see the first mate, his eyes watching as Rollo's did. "Should we roll the barrels?"

"Not yet," Rollo said, his eyes narrowed. "Wait until they try to turn around. They will crowd even more and we can destroy more of them at once."

"Ready to relay the signal when you are," the man nodded, turning back to find his captain. Rollo watched again as the boats swayed and cracked, trying to turn about. He heard the cries of the warriors as they dislodged the ores from one another, pushing off to try and move themselves into an upright position. Rollo then spotted him, his eyes already on Rollo. Ragnar stood amongst his warriors, his blue eyes narrowing on his brother as the boats groaned and moved, trying to back up away from the chain barrier. Rollo could only stand there, his own eyes narrowing on his brother as the Viking ships tried to dislodge from the chain and one another. He could see the seething anger and disappointment in Ragnar's eyes as he watched Rollo, staying safe behind the shield wall.

The longer he stared, the more enraged Rollo became. He brother was always better than him but here he had stopped him in his tracks. He'd thrown him off guard and had halted his all-out assault on the city of Paris. He was sure his brother expected resistance but nothing on this level; this satisfied Rollo and he couldn't help but grin. Ragnar noticed and shook his head, his eyes narrowing dangerously as Rollo turned to the soldier next to him.

"Tell the first-mate that he may give the signal," Rollo commanded. "They are as crowded as they will get."

The soldier nodded and jogged toward the back of the boat, leaving Rollo to watch as the ships struggled to turn about, away from the chain. It was then that he saw it, the red flag waving back from the top of the tower in response to Rollo's orders. He watched with satisfaction as his orders were carried out perfectly. First, a dozen or so barrels were rolled down the slopes, cracking and shattering on the rocks and boats as they hit their target. The dark tar spread everywhere over the rocks and boats and before the Northmen even had time to react, an arrow had been fired from each tower, igniting the black oil on contact.

Rollo watched in awe as the ships burned, some managing to dislodge themselves and row back just in time as three of the ships set fire. Rollo could see Ragnar's fury, commanding his warriors to row faster, missing the blaze as it spread across the hulls and decks, many warriors igniting with the wood. There were screams and cries as the warriors dove for the water, others trying their best to jump onto the fleeing ships. The wood burned quickly, the other ships managing to escape the flames of the other boats as they retreated. Rollo was completely satisfied, his warriors crying out in glee and victory as the boats retreated from the towers, the rowing and chants of the pagan warriors fading as the volley of arrows followed them back upriver. It was a small victory, Ragnar and his warriors sure to return with a plan to breech their defenses. Rollo signaled for the ships to make port, rallying at the docks on the east side of the river.

"What are your orders now, Duke Rollo?" captain Krey asked, instructing his crew to tie up the ship and await instructions.

"We stock up on arrows. If we are lucky it will take some time for the Northmen to come up with a plan around our defenses. We still have few more barriers between here and the city, enough to slow them down and wear out their fighting men," Rollo said, walking from the ship and onto the docks, his men praising him and parting the way as he passed. "We will concentrate our standing army along the shore. We'll also set up relay points with scouts between here and the coast. They may have breached the delta but there is very limited space for them to camp. If we are lucky, they will be forced to stay on their ships."

"And if they should make an attempt on land?" Krey asked, his eyes scanning the horizon. "We have posts all along the river but there are blind spots."

"Keep the men in ranks," Rollo said. "Guards posted in groups and the second there is an attack, light the beacon. If they should overtake our tower and break through, the second tower must be ready to defend the next stretch of river."

"Where will you be?" Krey asked, his eyes looking over the troops that were scrambling across the shore, setting up their posts.

"I'll be among the officers," Rollo said. "Up river. I'll post there and should there be an attack I am close enough to respond but far enough away to prepare the second set of defenses."

"Where would you like us?"

"I need your fleet patrolling the river between the first and second guard tower. If they break through I need your men to catch them off guard and start firing from the river."

"Sounds like a plan," Captain Krey nodded. "I'll see it done."

"Good," Rollo assured, watching as the men resupplied the tower with arrows and barrels, staying as far as they could from the flaming Viking ships. It didn't take long for the tower to be fully stocked again, the men taking up positions on both sides of the river as they placed their tents and fires. If the Northmen wanted to breech their defenses, they'd have to get through the chain and the only way to do that was to take down one of the towers. This wouldn't be too difficult with the right number of warriors and ships. Though the towers were all made of rocks and cement made from clay, they were not indestructible. They were tall to be used as beacons and firing towers but they were not equipped to take on a full attack.

"Duke Rollo," came a voice and he turned to see one of his personal guards. "Captain Fish sent me. He asks if you would like the extra horses from the stables in Rouen to be sent to the front."

"We do not need them yet but when we reach the next stretch of river, should the Northmen get through, we will need them for our cavalry," Rollo assured, looking back down river. "Have them at the ready but do not deploy them until the second towers are lit."

"And the troops stationed in Rouen," he asked. "Captain Fish wants to make sure that the plan remains the same."

"It does," Rollo nodded. "Report back to him and ready the defenses."

"Yes, my lord," the soldier nodded, turning and heading back to his horse that was tied to the docks. As he took off down the lane along the riverbank, he could see the soldiers scrambling to set up posts. Rollo joined the fray, helping to set up tents and barriers before mounting his own horse to head up river. As he left Captain Krey with his ship and crew, his lieutenants followed him up stream toward the officer's camp. They had begun setting it up on the hill above the river valley, overlooking the guard tower and the delta of the river. It was a high view, the ships of the Northmen still visible as they sailed back down the river toward the western shore, trying to find a place to dock and regroup. Rollo had specifically told all the soldiers positioned along the river valley to fire volleys of arrows if the Northmen tried to dock; giving them a foothold gave them an advantage and Rollo was determined to deprive them of any and every possible trick.

As he approached the camp, a soldier ran up to him and bowed, offering to take care of his horse. Rollo allowed it, dismounting and making his way to the larger tent in the small camp. When he entered it he met Torol and Devloo, both looking at maps and lists of supplies and available soldiers. When they spotted him they bowed slightly, looking back at the paperwork before them.

"Where do we stand?" Rollo asked, looking down at the paperwork.

"So far their fleet has overrun the delta," Torol said. "They've made it past the initial guard and may choose to set up camp near the mouth."

"They will find the shore less welcoming than they planned," Rollo said. "Our troops have been ordered to fire upon them whenever they tried to make camp."

"Yes, but should they overcome our archers we may be looking at a prolonged standoff," Devloo commented. "So far their troops are retreating back down stream and our troops are setting up on shore. It is their move. How do you think they will proceed?"

"My brother was not expecting this barrier," Rollo commented. "But much like the rest of his warriors, he sees only an obstacle to overcome. He will come up with an inventive solution, of this I am sure. So, to prepare for anything we must be ready to respond with everything."

"The shores are secure, the delta is being watched, and the soldiers are ready for battle," Torol smiled. "Today was a success Duke Rollo; if we keep up this defense, the pagans will not make it anywhere near Paris."

"We must be weary though," Rollo noted. "My brother and his soldiers did not travel all this way to go home empty handed. They will take all that they can."

"Then we must be vigilant and we must not waver," Devloo said, looking at the map. "Should they break through our first line of defense, they will suffer at the hands of our cavalry. They cannot hope to go further upstream without removing their first obstacle."

"Keep watch and do not lose focus," Rollo said. "They may take some time to regroup so we cannot become lazy waiting for them to make their move."

"If they breach our first barrier we have four ships docked at Rouen with the three legions standing by," Torol said. "If Captain Krey cannot hold the pagans off, we will send for reinforcements."

"Good," Rollo nodded. "If they make it through we will need our troops to respond quickly. If they were to breech the first tower, they would still have to make it through five more before reaching the city itself. And there remain the rest of our reserve troops. Five ships and another half a dozen legions."

"All is in place then," Devloo said. "We await their attack."

"It will not come soon," Rollo assured. "If they cannot find a foothold they will be forced to remain on their ships or retreat to safer shores to regroup."

"They'll not find it in Normandy," Torol assured. "Our troops are positioned all along the river valley and the shores of the channel."

"Then we wait," Rollo sighed, looking over the paperwork. "The troops have their orders and my work here is finished. Make sure they don't get lazy; I have some business to attend before nightfall." Rollo nodded at both of them before leaving the tent now, the wind outside picking up as the sun began to set. He could see the ships in the distance still, retreating downriver until their masts were small on the horizon.

"Duke Rollo," came a voice and Rollo turned to see a young messenger, his eyes wide in wonder as he stared at the larger man. "I have word from Paris." He bowed and handed Rollo two letters, backing away before leaving, his feet carrying him quickly toward the camp on the shores. Rollo looked down at the two letters now, leaving the larger tent's awning and moving toward his own tent. When he entered it he shut the canvas flap behind him, sitting at the small desk that had been set up inside. There was a burning brazier for heat and a large wool and fur cot, set up for his comfort. He sat down at the desk now, the light from the brazier making the walls of the tent glow orange. He opened the first letter, a smaller one with the Emperor's official seal, and began to read.

 _Beloved Son Rollo,_

 _I write in praise of your deeds and accomplishments. You have managed to halt the Northmen's advance up the Seine and sent them into panic. Odo has been a dedicated commander, preparing the city guard to repel the invaders. You have protected, most valiantly, the citizens of Rouen and Paris, by extension, protecting the whole of Frankia. We are all glad to read your letter and about your progress; the plans go well. We are happy to learn of the progressing defenses. If opportunity will present itself, do your duty to crush the pagan enemy._

Rollo read over the letter once more before pulling out a piece of parchment from his Bible, placing it on top of the Emperor's letter. The parchment had holes cut out of it, revealing key words in the letter so that Rollo could easily decipher the message. He wrote down each word and after a moment he had the deciphered message.

 ** _Rollo,_**

 ** _I have sent Odo to Rouen. All plans are progressing. Opportunity will present itself. Crush the enemy._**

Rollo read the words once more before wadding up the parchment letter and throwing it into the brazier. It burned quickly and then he turned to the second letter. It was unadorned with a seal but it looked expensive, something only royalty could afford. When he opened it he recognized the handwriting immediately; Gisla's handwriting excited him as he read, every letter written like a word from her lips.

 _Husband,_

 _I have missed you greatly. My heart aches with longing to see you again. It has only been two weeks and yet I feel your loss as if it had been years. I have been sick but all is well; my condition is stable. Father has informed me of your victories in repelling the pagans so far. My heart soars with the possibility of embracing you soon. I pray my father's letter has found you well and I pray that my letter gives you the strength, and determination, to face the enemy. I await your return eagerly. Remember your promise._

 _Love, Gisla_

Rollo read over the words several times, letting out a soft sigh. Gisla's coded message was less complicated; this was the first time she had written to him and her words were quite direct. No one yet knew of her condition and Rollo worried that if he were away from Paris too long, the stresses of his absence and the growth of her belly might have unintentional consequences. He quickly grabbed a quill, jotting down a thoughtful note to his wife. After finishing it and reading it several times he was ready to seal it and deliver it into her hands.

 ** _Wife,_**

 ** _Your words are a much needed relief in this hour of war. I have received your father's letter and have been inspired, by your loving words, to fulfill my duties as a husband and Duke. I miss you very much, your absence from my side weighing my heart. I am, however, overjoyed that you are well again and that your condition is stable. I cannot wait to be in your arms again and hope that these upcoming battles are swift and favorable. Pray for my safe return my loving wife. I will keep my promise._**

 ** _Forever yours, Rollo_**

After sealing the letter and summoning the messenger, Rollo crawled into bed, the stress and length of the day finally hitting him as he sunk into his fur and linen covers. He hadn't realized he fell asleep until he was woken the next morning by a soldier calling for him from outside his tent.

"Duke Rollo," he called, his voice loud but not urgent. "Duke Rollo, may I enter?"

Rollo sat up in bed, realizing that he still wore his tunic and leather pants from the night before. "Come in," he called, stretching his arms above his head. The young soldier did, finding the Duke laying on his bed and bowing.

"I've been sent by Captain Krey," he announced. "The captain wants me to inform you that the Northmen have anchored offshore, just out of range of our coastal troops. They have been there all night and have made no moves to enter the river again. There have been no boats approaching shore and the watches up and down the coast have spotted no additional anomalies. I also come bearing a message from Paris that arrived late last night."

"Maintain watch," Rollo said, standing up and taking the parchment scroll from the soldier. "And inform my steward or guard that I require food and drink. I also want to talk to Captain Fish."

"Yes, my lord," the soldier bowed, turning and walking from the tent. Rollo sat at his table, his eyes roaming over the maps and papers that lay strewn upon his desk before unrolling the unsealed scroll. He read over the words carefully, and then burned it, pulling on his boots and jacket. It was then that his steward walked in, a pitcher of wine and a goblet on a tray. He set it down and Rollo commanded him to find Captain Fish. When he left Rollo drained a cup of wine before refilling it, waiting for Captain Fish to show up. It was a few moments later that he heard the captain call from just outside the tent, Rollo parting the canvas to allow him entrance.

"How can I help you, my lord?" Fish asked, bowing and looking at the table. "All is quiet on the shores and upriver. It seems we've stumped the savages."

"I need to ask you a dangerous, and personal question," Rollo said, watching Fish carefully. "Do you have ambition to rise higher in society?"

"Ambition?" Fish scoffed, his eyes going wide. "The only reason I am still alive is because you saw my skills in combat and felt generous enough to spare my life; otherwise I'd be a corpse rotting in a shallow grave."

"Then you have no allegiance to any other besides myself and the Emperor?" Rollo pressed, his eyes narrowing on the captain.

"None, I'd never even spoken to someone above my class until the day I met you," he replied, watching Rollo curiously. "Why do I have the feeling you are about to proposition me?"

"Because I am," Rollo nodded, clapping him on the shoulder. He then poked his head out the canvas flap, making sure there was no one around before he proceeded. He led the Captain over to his table and sat him down, pouring him some wine from his own cup. "Fish, you're a unique man."

"Don't I know it," he smirked, sipping on the wine. "What is it you need?"

"This conversation must never be repeated," Rollo assured, leaning toward the captain. "Do you understand?"

"I took an oath Rollo," the man replied, tilting his cup toward him. "Whether I chose this life or not, it is what I have."

"Then listen carefully," Rollo said, sitting down across from him. "The Emperor has become displeased with his longtime councilor and commander Count Odo. The Emperor has a strong reason to believe that Count Odo works against him, coveting his crown. We have planned, for the sake of Frankia and the safety of my own family, to dispose of Count Odo. Therefore, the Emperor has decided to send Odo north, to Rouen to back up the secondary troops. It is here that we are hoping misfortune befalls him."

"He would leave his city guard in Paris?" Fish asked. "He will be suspicious if the Emperor commands it."

"I have no doubt that he is suspicious but he knows not who is enemy is," Rollo assured. "He believes me to still be a friend and ally. This is why I want to acquire your services."

"What would you have me do?" Fish asked, his eyes a little wide. "You want me to kill him?"

"No," Rollo shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "I want you to provide me the opportunity."

Fish watched him closely now, his eyes narrowed as he thought about Rollo's words. Then he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose before downing the rest of his wine. "Well," he sighed. "I can't say I'm surprised. It is always one conspiracy or plot after another with the nobles."

"So it would seem," Rollo smiled. "Bringing him to Rouen, away from the palace and his guard was hard enough. Now we need to make him believe he is protected; if he is personally escorted and guarded by my own Captain, he will believe it."

"So what should I do?" Fish asked. "I've killed men before, pirates and other smugglers but this is something entirely different. This is a count, someone high above my station."

"You would not be killing him," Rollo said, lowering his voice. "The pleasure is all mine."

"Then what is the plan?"

"He rides for Rouen today," Rollo said. I need you to ride, with all haste, to Rouen and send Devloo to me. When you reach Rouen greet Count Odo like he is an honored guest. Treat him to whatever he may need and update him on the defenses. You may be as truthful as you see fit with such details. However, when the Northmen do push through and manage to make it to the second set of towers, I want you to personally escort him to the battle. It will be your job to then inform me of his whereabouts on the field; it won't take long to convince him to fight by my side and then I will make my move."

"It does not sound like you need me," Fish said, leaning back in his chair. "The count would throw himself into the fray for the glory that it would bring. No need for an escort."

"I need to know exactly where he is on the field," Rollo interjected, smiling at Fish. "In order to make it look like an accident, I need to know where he will fall. That is why you are so important. I would trust no other."

"I am a man molded by your hands," he admitted, taking another drink of his wine. "There is no other that deserves my loyalty."

"Not even the Emperor?" Rollo asked, a grin spreading over his face.

"I am thankful that the Emperor gave you such title," Fish professed. "Otherwise, I'd be a dead smuggler."

"And your secrecy," Rollo drawled. "How much is that going to cost me?"

"You've shown me mercy and provided me with more wealth and lands than I ever thought possible," he shrugged, taking another drink of wine. He then smirked at Rollo, setting the cup down. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to have a little bit more money in my pockets."

"At least I know you have a price," Rollo chuckled. "Honesty is a noble trait to find in an ally," he smirked, turning his attention to the doorway as the steward entered laden with a tray of meats and breads. The two men ate hungrily, talking quietly about the plan and potential problems. It was only when Rollo had eaten his fill that they both stood, leaving the tent to enact their plan.

"I will ride swiftly," Fish admitted. "Rouen is only little more than a day off."

"When we are successful," Rollo promised, his eyes on Fish as he mounted his horse. "You will receive my full gratitude."

"I look forward to being an even wealthier man, Duke Rollo," he chuckled, nudging his horse forward, galloping down the path toward the road. Rollo watched as he disappeared into the distance, his trust placed in the only man he knew would remain loyal, even if it was only for title and wealth. It was just then that Torol came riding up, dismounting his horse and bowing to Rollo.

"News from the coast," Torol said, his face serious. "The Northmen have landed on our shores, just south of the northern watch tower. The men rode out to confront them and managed to decrease their numbers but the party is led by the son of King Ragnar; Bjorn Ironsides."

"So they defeated the posted soldiers," Rollo said, deep in thought. "How many?"

"One boat approached shore and the warriors managed to push through our lines. They nearly wiped out the entire guard," Torol admitted. "They are now moving inland, south toward the river valley. They mean to either flank us or take us by surprise."

"They know they can do neither," Rollo sighed, looking at the sky. "It is meant to draw me out. This is no tactic of my brothers; the strategy lies with my nephew."

"And is he like his father?"

"He will eclipse his father," Rollo nodded, looking back at Torol. "He is a man now so he must be approached as one. Bjorn is both clever and fierce; he gets that from his family. He is patient like Ragnar, wise like Lagertha, and a mighty warrior like me. He will be a problem."

"How to we approach this then? One band of raiders is hardly a threat, especially if the legion from the coast follows them."

"No," Rollo said, looking over at Fish. "That is what they want, for us to leave the coast undefended and helpless. I will not give them the satisfaction.

"So the attack from Bjorn Ironsides is a trick to get you to reallocate your troops?"

"Like I said," Rollo sighed. "The boy is clever, patient, and strong."

"So what is the plan?"

"Keep the troops as they are," Rollo insisted. "I will take my personal guard out to hunt him and his band down. If I do not return within two days, follow the plan; it will still work without me. Also, tell Fish to stick to my plan."  
"Another plan?" Torol asked, smirking.

"A good one, I assure you," Rollo smiled. "Now go gather my troops. I need my ten best."

"This may be too great a risk," Torol commented. "Perhaps that is the trap and they want to lure you out. Perhaps they believe that if they cut off the head of the snake, it will die."

"Then I must be careful to return with my head," Rollo nodded, watching Torol make his way through camp. Rollo met his troops, and Torol, a little while later near the docks, the group outfitted with weapons and armor. Rollo must have looked glorious in his armor because the soldiers stared in awe as the large man passed by.

"Here they are," Torol said. "The best of your guard. All ten of them."

"Good," Rollo nodded. "We're going on a hunt," he announced. "A band of pagans has broken through the lines in the north, slipping past our defenses. They are now heading south, straight for our first towers; we are going to meet them head on and drive them back, or if we can manage it, destroy them."

The men looked around a little worried but Rollo quickly silenced them with a glare. "You have your training," Rollo insisted. "You know what to expect from the way that they fight, from the way their shield-wall works. Use your head and trust in your training. If you do not, Paris and Frankia will be lost."

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 **Are you ready for the Rollo vs. Bjorn showdown?! I know I am. :D Please please please please please review.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello... I know it has been a while but here it is; the rest of the chapter. More action to come. I'm excited about the last 3 episodes of the season and can't wait to see how it all goes. As usual, thanks to all my reviewers, followers, and those who just like my work. I appreciate it. I think there is a real shortage of GOOD cannon Vikings stories on here so I am glad that you are all still reading. Thanks again and please please please leave a review.**

 **VIKINGS IS OWNED BY HISTORY CHANNEL.**

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"The scouts say that they are camped up on the ridge, just within the tree line," Torol said, pointing up the hill toward the rocks. Rollo had travelled north along the plains with his troops and Captain Torol. He had made sure to leave word for Devloo when he arrived from Rouen, leaving him in charge of the troops stationed on the river.

"We need to draw them out," Rollo insisted, looking to the sky. "Their techniques favor group fighting, using the man to their right and left to defend themselves."

"How does drawing them out help? We should ambush them when they are least expecting it," Torol insisted. "It would give them less time to regroup and form their shield wall."

"It would also give them the opportunity to ambush us," Rollo pointed. "If we know they are in the tree line, then they know we are watching them. They'll be expecting an ambush."

"Then the advantage of a surprise attack is lost to us," Torol commented, shuffling through the maps laid out on the ground before them. They were knelt in a small hamlet that was hidden by thick trunks of trees and rocks and the group of men around them were on guard, watching the perimeter closely. Rollo felt uneasy, his green eyes scanning the tree-line slowly before coming back to Torol.

"We need to let them come to us," Rollo insisted. "My nephew is not stupid; he knows me just as well as I know him."

"Then what is our plan of action?" Torol said, looking at the horizon.

"I am not sure," Rollo admitted. "If we wait for them to come to us we will be giving the river fleet an advantage. They will have successfully gotten me out of the way. But, if we rush in we could face certain death. Either way, they have the advantage."

"We must make a move," Torol said. "We cannot stay here, waiting."

"What do you suggest?" Rollo asked, looking up at the horizon.

"The Northmen do not know these lands like I do," Torol admitted. "I've hunted these woods for years."

"And?" Rollo asked, his eyes narrowed.

"There are a set of caves, interconnected and ancient," Torol said, pointing to the cliffside where Bjorn and his troops were located. "They are interconnected, underground, and have multiple entrances. There is one on the far side of the cliff, here," Torol pointed, a smirk on his face. "We can enter here and follow the caves through the cliffs, ambush them from behind. At least it will restore the advantage of a surprise attack."

"If we can blind their scouts," Rollo smirked back. "We could move in the cover of darkness. They would not expect us to attack so suddenly nor would they expect it to be at night from the rear."

"It gives us the greatest advantage," Torol nodded. "I'll prepare the troops."

"Are the reinforcements close?" Rollo asked. "Will they be here by sunset?"

"They may be later but that is to our advantage as well."

"Agreed," Rollo nodded. "Send a man to meet them. How many follow us?"

"Another ten," Torol nodded. "I'll send a man to meet them and inform them of our plans."

"Good, we move out late," Rollo nodded. "When they are drunk and unaware."

"How will we handle the scouts?"

"We'll move silently, and in the dark," Rollo nodded. "If we happen to run into them we'll have to take them down before they figure out it is us."

"We'll have the reinforcements join us under the cover of the waning moon," Torol smiled. "They will not be spotted as they approach and we can reach the cave entrance in the same way."

"Then we move out in a few hours, tell everyone to prepare," Rollo nodded, standing. He then paused, looking to the tree line as if drawn to it instinctively. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the tree-line atop the cliff, the tall pines and birches casting shadows over the ground. It was here, amongst the underbrush, that he spotted the large blonde figure starting down at him. He could not see a face, only the thin blonde beard and thick hair atop his head as he watched Rollo's camp closely. He couldn't believe how much older Bjorn looked, how mature he had become since he was last in Frankia.

"Torol," Rollo called, stopping the captain mid-sentence as he spoke to one of their scouts. "Tell everyone that Bjorn Ironsides is my fight."

"Nostalgia or love?" Torol finally asked, a smirk spreading over his face.

"Both," Rollo chuckled. "We've battled once before." Rollo could vaguely recall the beating his nephew had given him shortly after they returned from Wessex. Rollo remembered, with a pang in his chest, the events that lead to such a beating. Siggy's death, Bjorn's anger at his drunken foolishness, and the loss Rollo never truly abandoned. Though Gisla was there for him in ways he'd never believed possible, he still felt a hole in his heart where Siggy had once been.

Rollo hadn't even noticed Torol's look of confusion before turning back to the scout. It was after the sun had gone down and the moon had risen into the sky that the scout had returned with the reinforcements. They'd arrived slowly and quietly, the cover of darkness working in their favor. It was after the reinforcements were rested and fed that they took off, the night hiding them as they trekked through the steep hills at the base of the cliff. Torol led the way, skillfully navigating the swampy lowland and up the rocky hills. After searching through the shadows and rock faces they finally found the crack, a slim entrance into a steep basin.

As the group of soldiers quietly crept through the caves, two dim oil lamps lighting the path ahead, Rollo could hear the dripping of the rocks and the flapping of wings. He squinted to better see the path, winding up the back of the cave toward the top of the cliff. As they walked further, Rollo could see figures illuminated on the walls, his eyes adjusting to the dim light to better make out the images. They were ancient drawings, the painted figures of deer and elk being hunted by human-like figures danced as the light passed by. It was fascinating, the soldier's eyes drifting over the images as they passed and made their way over the rocky incline.

Winding through the dark cavern, the echoes of the footsteps spooking rodents and bugs, the group managed to squeeze and hoist one another up rugged edges and moss covered corners. It was moments later that Torol put out his lamp, his body halting ahead of them as he crept toward the light leaking in through the cave entrance ahead. Torol disappeared into the shadows for a moment before returning, nodding at Rollo.

"We're in the right spot," Torol whispered. "I can hear them talking down the ridge. Doesn't sound like they've been alerted to our movements."

Rollo nodded, moving forward, past Torol. He had to hear the conversation; even faint words would give him a hint of their movements. As he approached the mouth of the cave he could hear laughter and rough language, the clanking of metal and the neighing of horses overshadowing the chirping of birds overhead. The cave entrance was small, thin, and unless you were looking for it, you'd never know it led down to the river valley. Rollo could see the small mists in the valley below, rolling over hills and glens in a silver haze, signaling the approach of dawn. He listened, waiting for a familiar voice or word but there was too must rustling; the horses were loud even when sleeping and the whipping of the wind swept across the floor of the forest like a clatter. It was only when one raider got loud that Rollo could finally hear what was going on.

"-and they will feel the wrath of the gods! Those Christians will die by my axe!"

"As they should!" came another voice. "They will pay a hefty sum for their god."

"If you don't get any sleep, you'll be killed by a Christian and Odin will be displeased. How do expect to reach Valhalla then?" came Bjorn's voice, drifting up to Rollo.

"Aye," the first man agreed. "Bjorn is right! We must sleep."

"We can sleep when that traitor is dead," spat the second man, his voice a bit heavy and his words slurred. "He killed my brother and his family without mercy; all for his new Christian god."

"Silence," Bjorn's voice resonated. "We will get our revenge but until morning, we sleep."

There was silence now, the wind picking up a bit as it shuffled the dead leaves and pine needles over the ground. Rollo turned to the group now, nodding. "Come," he whispered, motioning for them to follow him. They crept along the rock face, the party of Vikings just below them in a small clearing surrounded by trees. Rollo halted his troops when he spotted a scout, just above them looking over the ridge and down into the valley that Rollo was supposed to be inhabiting. He peered around quietly for a second but he was nowhere to be found. Rollo listened and waited a moment, the man's breathing above him slow as he paced over the ledge above. Still nothing as the wind rushed through the treetops, the clouds sliding over the moon to cast shadows over the mountainside.

Rollo turned back to Torol now, nodding at the scout above. Torol nodded back and turned to the man behind him; he was thin and young, his patchy brown beard showing through the buckles of his helmet. The boy simply bowed to the two men before stepping out in the shadow of the rocks, aiming his crossbow, and exhaling. The shot was quick, a dull creak signaling that the arrow had flown and a crack confirming the hit. Rollo looked up to see the warrior had a bolt lodged between his eyes, his body stiff before collapsing in a heap. The thud and clattering of his armor and shield was dull compared the wind rustling the budding leaves above. Still, Rollo looked about, eager for the battle to come. He had grown impatient and knew that, in the end, there could be only one result.

The raiders were not disturbed and the camp was silent as Rollo peered around for another scout standing guard but there were no footsteps, no movement except the wind and the tied horses. He turned back again, this time signaling for them to spread out, motioning that they needed to create a perimeter around the clearing. Torol whispered something to a group of bowmen, motioning for them to take up higher ground and then signaled for the rest of the troops to follow their lead. Rollo crept forward now, the light from the moon starting to shine again as the clouds moved across the sky. They were quiet, slowly closing in on the sleeping group of raiders. As they hid behind trees and in shadows, watching the small camp, Rollo felt an overwhelming sense of foreboding, his eyes narrowing as he watched his troops take up position. Something wasn't right; this was too easy.

Rollo's eyes strained as he stared into the camp, some faces familiar and other's new. He spotted Bjorn now, lying on his back on a fur, his arm over his head and his hand gripping his axe. Rollo couldn't help but smirk at this; the smart, brash, and spoiled little blonde that sat there on the beach, waiting for his uncle to come take him fishing, was gone. Instead there lay a man, a warrior, and a legend; all in his country and in Wessex know of Bjorn Ironsides. Rollo, for the briefest of moments, felt a surge of pride. He'd loved his nephew and valued the trust that the foolish youth had in him; they were more alike than Rollo wished to admit.

As Rollo leaned against the tree, watching closely, there was a thud behind him and he turned to see the scout, climbing down the cliff toward the body of the other. Rollo sprinted now, his sword held tightly in hand as he made it to the shadows of the ledge, climbing up to crouch behind a large boulder. The scout was descending backward, his arms and legs stretching with his torso as he descended, finding foot-holds wherever he could. The man was thin and tall, his armor light and his weapon strapped to his belt; for a moment Rollo believed the man to be Floki but saw that this youth had a black heard and short black hair. As he finally made it to the ledge, the man looked about, his eyes narrowing in search of his partner.

Rollo's soldiers were hidden by night, ducking into shadows and behind rocks to hide from the eyes of the watchman. Rollo knew he had to take the boy out before he spotted them and poised himself to swing. Rollo waited until the boy approached the boulder he was hiding behind, his face coming into view. He had a few markings on his face, a tattoo down his neck, and his eyes were piercing blue. They went wide when Rollo sprang and swung his sword, the man unable to make a sound as his head was cleaved from his shoulders, falling from them toward the ground. Rollo managed to reach out just in time, his hand with the sword grasping the boy's short hair, the other holding the body upright as he slowly lowered it to the ground. He placed the head next to the body and lowered himself down toward the tree-line again, taking up position right next to Torol.

"It was clean," Torol whispered, seeing the disconnected gaze in Rollo's eyes.

"We must attack," Rollo nodded. "The dawn approaches."

Torol nodded and signaled the archers waiting on higher ground. When he did Rollo could hear the creaking of bows and the whip of the arrows as a volley descended on the raiding party. The camp stirred now, a cry coming from within as a man was pierced through the chest, another in the neck. Bjorn had jumped up now, grabbing a shield.

"Shield wall!" he commanded, his voice resonating through the clearing. The soldiers scrambled about, a few more arrows let loose as more fell. The raiding party, which Rollo estimated at thirty, had lost five casualties already, the shields knocking together as they formed a cocoon around their leader.

There was a moment of silence now, Rollo watching as the huddled group of warriors took refuge behind their shields. Rollo simply gave Torol a nudge and the troops emerged, surrounding the clearing. Though they were outnumbered, Rollo held the advantage of having bowman at the ready. The second Bjorn spotted his uncle his eyes narrowed, his body becoming stiff as he stood up straight.

"Uncle," he said, his voice dripping with anger. "I did not expect you to be so bold."

"I did not expect you to be the first of my kin to battle me," Rollo smirked, grasping his sword tighter. "It seems it is fate."

"You will lose again, Rollo," Bjorn spat, stepping out from behind the shield wall, his axe raised. "You've betrayed your family, your people, and your gods. There is only one fate for a man like that."

"And you will act as the judge of such deeds," Rollo laughed, raising his sword. "Come, nephew, there is still much that you have to learn."

"Duke Rollo," Torol protested. "Is this wise?"

"He is my nephew," Rollo smirked, moving around Torol. "And I still have a lesson to teach."

"If you die, our defenses will be in disarray," Torol insisted. "I do not believe it is strategically sound to risk yourself, and this mission, on a battle. He is much younger than you Duke Rollo. Please… I cannot let you do this without expressing my concern."

"Bjorn understands he is surrounded," Rollo nodded, looking about at the archers and his own troops. "The survival of his men ride on this battle, right nephew?"

Bjorn simply sneered, moving toward Rollo, axe raised. Rollo could see that familiar fire behind his blue orbs, the intensity matching his brother's. It was almost mesmerizing, the way Bjorn prowled, watching his prey intensely. He had learned much since Rollo had last seen him and that was evident in the way he approached this battle; he looked completely calm. Rollo simply raised his sword, his eyes narrowed.

"Come, nephew," Rollo challenged, removing his heavy fur cloak. "Show me what you have learned."

Bjorn didn't hesitate, his axe swinging at Rollo as he approached. Rollo dodged, his own sword swinging as Bjorn moved out of his range. Both men circled one another, the intensity of their battle aweing the on-lookers as the anticipation mounted. Bjorn watched Rollo carefully, his axe swinging with precision and purpose. Rollo could see that every move Bjorn made was to catch him off guard but it only served to awe the watchers as the two large men battled.

Rollo managed to move out of the way as Bjorn swung his axe again, his eyes wild and full of anger. Rollo couldn't help but smirk as he swung his own sword, catching Bjorn off guard and drawing first blood. It was a shallow cut across the arm that had started to bleed but it didn't slow Bjorn down. He managed to swing his axe immediately afterward, narrowly missing Rollo's arm and sending Rollo reeling. He managed to take a couple of large steps back before regaining balance and swinging at Bjorn again. The young warrior countered him now, pulling out his own blade; it was a short sword but it gave him more range against Rollo's longsword. Rollo could see the sword was fresh forged and awkward to his nephew as Bjorn pointed it at him.

"You deserve to die," Bjorn insisted, swinging his sword at Rollo. The two swords clanged together as the men dueled, countering one another blow for blow. It was only when Bjorn finally struck Rollo, a shallow gash in Rollo's thigh, that Rollo chuckled, nodding at his nephew as they circled on another.

"You've grown," Rollo smirked. "I did not realize you were such a master of the sword."

"You will die at the hand of my sword," Bjorn growled, swinging at Rollo again. The blade narrowly missed as Bjorn lunged, leaving himself open to Rollo's elbow. The force of his elbow made Bjorn stumble backward and it was then that Rollo went on the offensive, swinging harshly at the reeling raider. Bjorn's eyes widened at the intensity, the group around them screaming and cheering as the battle intensified. The raiders within the shield wall had remained in their positions, watching closely as the fight continued. As Bjorn contorted himself away from Rollo's blade, he tripped over the knots on the ground, his body slamming into the dirt. Rollo was immediately over him now, his blade pointed at the younger blonde's face.

"At the hand of your sword, heh?" Rollo asked, his eyes narrowing on his nephew. He still had so much to learn and Rollo was slightly disappointed in the abrupt ending to their battle. "You are less than I expected."

"And you are a cowardly traitor," Bjorn spat, his hand clutching his short sword. "I should have never trusted you."

"But you did," Rollo smirked. "And now you are paying for it. Tell your men to stand down and they won't be killed."

"I would rather die," Bjorn growled. "And so would they. Odin will welcome no man to his great hall when he has forfeited to his enemy."

"You and your troops will die," Rollo sneered, his eyes flitting to his own troops. "Kill any who resist; the sun is rising and we need to leave."

"We did not bring any iron cuffs," Torol insisted, moving to stand next to Rollo. "We cannot take this many prisoners."

"So be it," Rollo snapped, looking at the group of raiders who still stood behind their shield wall. "Kill them all; only Bjorn will provide us with leverage."

"Coward!" Bjorn spat, grasping his sword tighter and lunging it forward. It pierced the flesh of Rollo's leg, blood spraying as Torol's foot met Bjorn's chest, forcing him back into the ground gruffly. Rollo grabbed the blade now, pulling it from his leg and throwing it across the ground. The wound wasn't deep, piercing the outer flesh of his thigh only a couple inches. The blood trickled over his leather pants, soaking through the material as Rollo clutched his sword tighter.

"You're brash," Rollo smirked. "Do you really want to kill me, nephew?"

"More than anything," Bjorn breathed, Torol's foot still pressed to his chest. "I trusted you to keep our interests here and you betrayed all of us. You deserve to die."

"You will not be the one to kill me," Rollo shrugged as his troops closed in. "Lay on the ground and feel your failure as you watch your troops perish; perhaps then you will understand being a man."

"They do not look like they will stand down," Torol commented, motioning toward the warriors behind the shield wall. They were watching closely, their weapons still drawn and ready for battle. "What do you recommend?"

"Show no mercy," Rollo insisted, the words heavier than he had anticipated. He then turned to the shielded warriors, his voice loud and booming. "Bjorn Ironsides is now my prisoner. If you would not see your beloved prince to reach Valhalla in such a miserable state, drop your shields and weapons."

"How do we know you will not kill him, and all of us, if we do?" asked one of the men, his eyes narrowing.

"With or without your surrender," Rollo insisted, his eyes narrowing on the man. "Bjorn will die. The manner in which he dies depends on you."

"You're a coward!" Bjorn insisted, struggling against Torol as he lay on the ground.

"What is your answer?" Rollo asked, his eyes drifting from Bjorn to the men behind the shield wall.

"We would rather die with a fight than be slaughtered like animals!" one of the men yelled.

"Come get us then," another man insisted.

Torol pulled his sword from his belt now, pressing it to Bjorn's chest, his eyes narrowing at him as he struggled under the blade. The warriors hissed and growled, one of the warriors breaking free from the shield wall to charge at Torol. An arrow pierced his neck only a moment later, blood spraying from the arrow as he fell to the ground, his axe falling from his hand. He convulsed for a second, his body shaking and his breathing ragged as he went still. Bjorn struggled again, this time being confronted with a sharp blade against his neck. The blood dripped slowly over the silver blade and into the dirt, Torol's grin matching Rollo's.

The Viking warriors didn't hesitate, their furious screams echoing as they ran at Rollo and Torol. The arrows found their mark, a half a dozen warriors falling to their knees and screaming out as the arrows pierced their armor. Rollo dodged an axe, swinging his sword and disconnecting the man's arm from his body. He screamed out, strangled and angry as Rollo swung again, the blade making blood spray from the man's shoulder as the blade cracked into bone.

Another man was swinging at him now, his axe just missing as Rollo knocked him to the ground, his body hitting the dirt with a thud. As more arrows went flying, more warriors fell, Rollo's troops clashing with the remainder of the party with deafening clangs. Torol and Rollo stayed in place, Torol's blade never leaving Bjorn's neck as the troops battled around them. The clanging of swords and axes and the thumping of shields and strikes echoed around them as the Northmen were struck down. Each cry was more and more desperate, the final remainder of the troops standing on their last legs as Torol stood over Bjorn. It was only when the last of the screaming raiders was slain that Bjorn screamed out, his anger radiating through his bright blue eyes.

"Get him up," Rollo growled, swinging his sword and impaling it into a wheezing warrior's chest. The man seized for a moment and then went limp, his eyes dulling by the moment. "We'll trek him back to camp and then make for the river."

"We must guard him closely," Torol insisted. "And we must move. If we are fast, we may reach the lower hills by nightfall."

"We can reach the river camp after nightfall," Rollo insisted. "We can push through with a full moon."

"We could," Torol agreed. "But that would be a long time and a hard journey without sleep."

"Making up time is imperative," Rollo nodded. "Send ahead two men to tell the camp to pack ahead of us. By the time we get back down the cliffs, they will be ready to leave."

"Agreed," Torol nodded. He waved at a group of soldiers who promptly came over to him, bowing. "Two of our fastest will go down the cliff to camp and tell them to start packing. We'll meet up with them and then we make a hard push for the river camp."

"Yes sir," one of the men nodded before the group left them.

"Rollo, what do we do with the boy?"

"Bind him and make him walk along," Rollo nodded. "If he tries to escape, take a limb."

"You traitorous cunt!" Bjorn spat. "You have no honor!"

"Settle down nephew," Rollo chuckled. "I won't kill you if it is not necessary."

"What does he say?" Torol asked, watching Bjorn closely as two soldiers approached. They yanked him up to his feet and bound his wrists with rope, the men holding him in place as Rollo watched.

"He called me a dishonorable traitor," Rollo smirked. "In a colorful way."

"Even when captured he shows no fear," Torol commented. "He is truly of your blood."

"He's a fool," Rollo sighed. "He has much yet to learn."

"We'll leave soon," Torol insisted. "We'll take the path down the cliff. It is direct and by the looks of it, our advanced scouts have just taken off down that path as well. They will reach the camp before us so let us take what we may need and follow."

Torol lead the party down the cliff-side, over steep ledges and drops and onto the rocky earth as they descended down the narrow path. The sun had started rising higher in the sky, breaking the skyline and shining orange and pink light over the white stone of the cliffs behind them. There was only one incident while making their way down the path, when Bjorn thought he could wrestle his way away from the two soldiers holding him. Rollo found it somewhat laughable but knew Bjorn was no idiot. The plan would have worked had Torol not been stopped, surveying the way down. If they'd had been separated, further apart, Bjorn could have very well escaped down the mountain and over the loose stone and dirt overhanging the forest below. As the sun rose higher in the morning sky, the warmth from the sun started warming the dewy and frosted grass and brambles that they had made their way over. The forest floor was close, the trees rising higher above them as they reached the needle and knot covered base of the cliff.

"I saw the fires from the camp," Torol said. "Upon the cliff. It looks like the messengers have fulfilled their duties."

"Good," Rollo nodded. "I hope they are ready to leave when we arrive. We need to make up time; descending that cliff took longer than anticipated."

"We'll make great time after we clear the forest," Torol assured. "Let's keep going."

Rollo nodded, allowing the two guards holding Bjorn's ropes a break as he took over. He held the ropes tightly in one hand, listening to Bjorn curse and seethe the whole way as he was urged forward. The two guards walked behind them, Rollo motioning for them to stay close as they wove their way through the trunks of trees and the undergrowth knotted between them. It was only when the sun began to shine through the canopy and heat the musty earth below them that Rollo decided to talk to his estranged nephew.

"How is your daughter, Siggy?" Rollo asked, watching Bjorn's reaction. "She must be in her third year by now."

"Do not talk about my family," Bjorn growled. "They are not your concern."

"I speak out of curiosity and love, nephew," Rollo retorted. "Is it so wrong that I genuinely care for my nephew's daughter?"

"You don't care," he retorted. "If you did you would not be against our people, against my father."

"So she is well?" Rollo asked, a smirk spreading across his face. "She will be a beauty I am sure."

"Shut up," Bjorn spat. "Just shut up."

"I will speak if I please," Rollo replied. He stayed silent for a moment now, prodding Bjorn along the forest floor, following the troops as their armor rattled through the trees. "You've grown quite a bit since last we met. Tell me of your trials."

Bjorn remained quiet as they walked and Rollo got annoyed, the silence getting under his skin. It was only after a few more minutes of walking that they could see the river valley below. It spread out before them as they crested the final hill amongst the tree trunks, looking down over the river valley off in the distance. The hills rolled from the distant band of blue up to the rocky and forested hills and cliffs they had been standing upon. There was a wider path now, leading down the hill toward a band of soldiers, all walking about gathering supplies and packing. Rollo was pleased that they were making up time and could march on. The river would be a stretch for one day's march and Rollo had considered riding with Bjorn to their camp but this did not please him. He dare not leave his soldiers behind.

"Come," Rollo insisted. "We'll march until we cannot. Food and rations will be given out on the move." Rollo then nudged Bjorn forward with his sword, making for the path down the hills. "We need to regroup and decide what to do with our prisoner."

"This could be the key to winning against the Northmen," Torol commented. "We needn't be too hasty."

"We know not their plans," Rollo replied, his eyes roaming his nephew's face. "This capture was almost too easy. We need to keep moving."

"You and your prisoner should ride on then," Torol insisted. "I'll bring the men back safely but you should make for Rouen."

"No, I will not abandon my troops," Rollo sighed, pressing Bjorn to walk faster. He hissed angrily, glaring at his uncle before picking up an almost effortless pace. Rollo tugged on his ropes now, poking him hard in the already injured arm. He growled and spat at his uncle before turning away and walking faster. "I need them all to reach the river and the only way I know how to make sure that happens is if I do it myself."

"Is that wise? Strategically?"

"If the legion doesn't reach the river we will be one short and that also would mean we are surrounded. We need all of our troops upriver and in Rouen when the battle comes. They are barely upriver and we have stopped them with the first chains; if they somehow broke through they could be potentially trapped further along and within our jaws."

"A good strategy but what if it fails?" Torol asked. "What if we are surrounded or the river fort is overrun when we return?

"We would have gotten word," Rollo insisted. "Devloo would have sent a soldier."

"I am a cautious man," Torol said. "I've seen many battles and I am always expecting the worse."

"If we are overrun then we make for Rouen and the second barrier," Rollo said, hearing the wind pick up as the sun peaked in the sky. They could also hear the troops below, packing and finishing their works. It was when they reached the bottom of the hill and marched into what remained of camp that they were greeted by the lieutenant left in charge. He bowed to both Torol and Rollo before looking at Bjorn.

"All is well," he said, looking over the larger man. "We are ready to move Duke Rollo."

"Good, we hand out rations on the march and we don't stop until we reach the river," Rollo insisted, handing over the ropes of his capture to Torol. "Chain him up and tie him to the wagon."

"Yes sir," Torol said, smirking as he pulled Bjorn through a crowd of soldiers toward the large cart laden with tents and supplies.

It was a long but joyful march to the river. Rollo's men were chanting and smiling, celebrating their leader's glorious capture. They were so overjoyed that when darkness hit, and the surprise attack overwhelmed them, the hills became eerily quiet. It was an attack Rollo was not expecting. Arrows came flying from the hillsides as they walked down the stretch toward the river. It was so close Rollo could hear the stream, the frogs, and the rest of his men as the arrows flew, singing in the night air. Rollo took cover with his men, Torol managing to rally them as the arrows came. When they were able to take cover within a ditch, a stream that trickled slowly downhill toward the river, Torol was able to speak.

"Bjorn Ironsides is still out there, chained to the cart," he said, his eyes narrowing in the growing darkness. "He is either hit or rescued. We must abandon the cart and make for the river now. You cannot be captured."

Rollo paused only briefly, exasperated before motioning for the remainder of the legion to follow him as they quickly sprinted down the streambed. Rollo could hear the cheers and howls of his former kinsmen as they retreated, rushing down the steep ditch and back toward the road. It was only when they knew they were clear that they climbed back onto the path. They were closer to the river fort now and could see its light and hear the soldiers on the watch. Rollo looked about to see that in the fray of the battle on the mountain, and the ambush just then, their troops had been cut down by a third.

"Go," Rollo said, moving down the path. "Let's get back and prepare for an ambush."

"We must abandon the first guard towers," Torol insisted. "If the Northmen have surrounded this bank than surely we must preserve our troops and position them upstream at the second towers."

"They only mean to gain a foothold," Rollo insisted. "Giving them enough room to set up a base camp would be disastrous, just like losing the mouth of the river."

"We have lost the delta," Torol breathed, working to keep up with Rollo's longer strides. "There are troops behind us, obviously overwhelming our northern costal guards. We must regroup all of our troops south of Rouen and move them to defend the second guard towers with Captain Fish and Count Odo."

"Then we must hurry," Rollo insisted, looking over his shoulder. Sure enough he could see fires on the hilltop and in the distance moving lights. Torol was right; they had overwhelmed the northern coast and are pushing toward the river valley. Rollo picked up the pace until they met the scouts, telling them to ring the alarm and rally the troops to move south, along the river toward Rouen. Rollo reached the fort and tents, looking about for Torol and Devloo. It wasn't long before both men ushered Rollo from the crowds of scrambling soldiers and into his private tent. Rollo sat down now, his eyes scanning the room. It was just the three of them so Rollo groaned, slamming his fist on the table.

"An ambush," Rollo sighed. "I knew it was a trap and yet I went."

"What are your orders?" Devloo asked, looking outside at the scrambling men.

"We rally all the troops that are left here, north of Rouen and to the coast, and we defend the second set of towers," Rollo assured. Then he felt it, a stinging in his leg. He had completely forgotten about Bjorn's blade, stabbing him on his outer thigh. He moved his hand to it now, quickly examining the dried blood about it. He'd not tended to it or put flame to it so he knew this couldn't be good. He hadn't noticed it while marching but his thigh burned and ached. He immediately stood now, sliding his leather breeches down. Both Devloo and Torol watched him carefully, their eyes wide when they saw the purple, red, and black wound on his leg.

"It is festering," Torol said, his eyes narrowed. Devloo immediately moved to Rollo's side, moving the limping Duke to sit on his bed, pulling a lamp over to better see the wound.

"The blood is bad," Devloo said. "We need to bleed it, cut it, clean it, and set it to fire."

"Such steps?" Torol asked, his eyes wide. "I've seen some crazy remedies but that just sounds damn painful."

"Get him some strong ale or wine," Devloo insisted. "We need to make this quick so he can ride out with the troops. They cannot know he is injured."

"Right," Torol said, leaving the tent for his charge. Devloo immediately grabbed the wine sitting on the table, ripping away the linens still surrounding the wound. He poured the wine on slowly which made Rollo flinch. The stinging intensified as he squeezed the bed beneath him, his eyes closing in pain. He then felt it, the burning and pulsing of a hot knife as it cut away at his flesh. Rollo screamed out and Devloo made him drink, the wine sliding down his throat like syrup. It was unpleasant, the pain overwhelming Rollo's mind as Devloo cut away the rotting flesh. It was then that he dipped the steaming blade in the glass of wine on the table, the sizzle cooling it as he whipped it in the air to dispose of the remaining liquid.

He then urged Rollo to take another drink from the pitcher, which he reluctantly did. The pain was unreal, the burning and stinging shooting up his leg and into his hips and back. He felt helpless, like he wanted to collapse right then and there. It was then that Torol came back in, a large stein on ale in his hands. "The strongest we have," Torol insisted, handing it to Rollo after taking the pitcher away from him. "Drink."

This liquid was warm and heavy, sliding down his throat and burning as it did, distracting him from his leg as Devloo stuck his knife into the wound, blood pooling about it. "Lay sideways Rollo," he insisted. "I will let it bleed for as long as I can before we seal and bandage it."

Rollo simply nodded, downing half the warm liquid in his cup before setting it down and laying on his side. The wound burned hotter now, the blood trickling onto the bed and to the floor. It was a lot and from what Rollo could smell, it was awful; Torol only said that it looked darker than usual but Rollo knew he was trying to be polite. There was nothing that could guard him from this, the festering of battle wounds. He would have to pray that the Gods, or God, had a plan for him. When Rollo felt like passing out, Devloo made him roll onto his back and heated his knife again. He had to seal it and then wrap it but Rollo was far too gone to realize it. He felt tired, almost as if on the brink of life and death already and he could not understand it. It was then that Torol pressed the hot metal to the open wound; Rollo's screams echoed throughout the camp with horrifying resonance. None but those within the tent knew that it was because of his pain; most were just fearful of his anger.

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 **:D So... how did you like that? More to come! Please take a few seconds to leave a review. I may just write another chapter TODAY. haha Thanks for reading.**


	15. Chapter 15

**New chapter already! Please enjoy and review.**

 **VIKINGS IS OWNED BY HISTORY.**

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The rain came down swiftly and hardening every footstep forward. The troops had moved from the surrounded fort upriver before the Viking ships could reach, leaving nothing but a burning set of towers for their arrival. Rollo would be damned if Ragnar or Floki got a hold of the devices they used to raise and lower the chains. The damage they could inflict would be catastrophic. But Rollo was feeling weary, sick and the rain did not help. They could barely see as their torches and oil lanterns lit the narrow road along the shore of the Seine. They were heading south toward the second set of towers, trotting nearly a full night's ride down stream as the sun and gray started to peak over the gloomy horizon. It had been more than 48 hours since some of his troops had had rest and he could tell. They were slow and tired and an ambush could very well cripple his forces. In total they had gathered three legions, including the men who had escaped the costal defenses to join up with them.

Rollo pushed them on though, his leg burning with every sway of the horse and every dip in the old and unkempt road. By the time they had spotted the docks and fort outside Rouen, the lights were still burning and the gloom of the rain nearly hid them from view. Rollo motioned for Devloo and Torol to send ahead troops to prepare for them as well as informing the rear that we would be approaching the city docks soon. It wasn't long before the river met with a bridge and the messengers took off over it, galloping toward the docks with swift horses and shouts. Rollo stayed put now, ushering the groups of men and carts of supplies over the bridge. Devloo had ridden up to him now, pulling at his horse's reigns.

"Rollo," he said. "You must go ahead and seek attention for your leg. You look pale and tired; go to your home and rest. We can handle the defenses."

"I will not ride ahead," Rollo said, shaking his head. "I must arrive with my troops, as their leader."

"Then at least ride at the front so you arrive first," Devloo pressed. "Foolish pride will not make this festering wound heal, nor will it hand you victory over the Northmen. Let us handle it for now."

"You're brash," Rollo grunted. "And stubborn, much like my wife."

"You are our only hope of defeating these devils," Devloo admitted. "I won't beat around the bush; I see the situation for what it is. If we do not band together to support the one person who actually cares whether we live or die, we're all doomed."

"Why do you think I care if you live or die?" Rollo asked, a pained sneer on his face as more troops crossed the bridge. "I'm a pagan to most of you anyway."

"Not to me," Devloo said, sitting up straight on his swaying horse. The rain had lightened somewhat and Rollo noticed that there was the sound of frogs all about them.

"Press on then," Rollo groaned, urging his horse forward with his troops, leaving Devloo behind. He could be painfully honest but sometimes a little too naïve. He truly believed in the goodness of people and what they could accomplish. He was someone Rollo was wholly uncomfortable about but would trust with his life. As Rollo galloped down the path, his troops slowly marching down the path behind him, he could see a messenger coming out to greet them. It was none other than Fish. His beard was still patchy as ever but even from a distance he could see that goofy grin on the captain's face.

"Rollo!" he boomed when their horses approached. "Come! Quickly out of the rain. We've heard the news and are preparing the defenses right now. This is the second strongest set of towers, next to the ones guarding Paris herself. We are sure to stop them here."

"Fill me in when we get to my palace," Rollo smirked, his eyes pained. Fish immediately noticed and looked the Duke over, spotting the wrap about his leg and the way in which it was covered.

"Let's fucking move then," Fish insisted, urging his horse to turn around. Rollo sighed, shaking his head as Fish stared at him in disbelief. "What is wrong with you?"

"We need to lead them into the city, to show we are still well," Rollo insisted. "If our plans are to succeed, we need to make our guests feel safe."

Fish's eyes immediately widened and then he nodded, scratching his patchy beard. Rollo just jerked his head toward the castle, urging his horse forward to catch up with the troops that were in the lead. It was only a few more minutes later, and a little less rain, that they finally made it to the city docks. Rouen sat above the river, on the valley's top and the only way to approach it was by the main road or by ferry up the stream to the loading docks. This made it a perfect fort to hold and preserve in case the Northmen should muster a superior force.

Rollo galloped into the lead now, the soldiers behind him jogging to keep up with their leader as they approached the city gates. When they swung open there were people lining the wet cobblestone and mud streets, all waving and cheering. It was as if they had won a great victory and Rollo did not understand. Fish saw his confusion and smiled, looking about the crowd.

"They believe you are returning from a victory as to keep their spirits up," Fish insisted. "Count Odo knows the details but is not dismayed."

"Good," Rollo assured. "He cannot know I am injured. Keep him at a distance for today and tonight I will make an appearance. Run ahead and make sure my palace is set up and that Odo cannot disturb me."

"Yes," Fish agreed. "The last thing he needs is an opportunity to strike at you." He took off up the lane now, disappearing up the hill and around the small cathedral. Rollo simply waved and nodded at the crowd, a smile on his face as he passed the market and the metal-worker's huts and shops. It was a thriving city and he thought that they would not give up their homes so lightly when under attack. As Rollo approached the barracks and training grounds he could see the servants hard at work setting out large tables of meals and drink. The troops rallied at this quickly rushing to get their share and a nice bed before the good ones were taken. Most of the troops that were stationed in Rouen were on the ramparts and in the forts with the towers so the barracks were empty but there was not nearly enough room for all three legions.

Torol approached him now, his horse huffing as he pulled it to a stop. He dismounted and handed over the reins to a servant who led his horse into the stables. He looked up at Rollo now and then at his leg.

"Is everything set?" he asked.

"Fish is preparing my rooms. I will be in them all day and will attend feast tonight. Do not disturb me," Rollo said, looking about. "I will ride to the palace and hope that Fish is there waiting. Man the defenses. I'm trusting my three captains to take charge."

Torol simply nodded, turning to the troops and ushering them toward the food and barracks. Rollo quickly trotted up the lane toward the keep, his palace ramparts reaching into the sky alongside the cliff. He did enjoy this isolated palace, a place where he hoped that one day his children and their family could live in peace. As he entered the courtyard, the gates closing behind him, he was greeted by Fish. Fish took his horse by the straps, grabbing the reins and leading him toward the stables. When the entered it was dry and warm and Rollo immediately lowered himself from the horse. It took all of his willpower not to scream out when he put pressure on the injured leg.

"Hurry," Fish said, tying up the horse and offering Rollo his shoulder. "The stable-master will tend him. You need to get to your chambers. I have sent for a discrete apothecary. He will know what to do."

"Take me there," Rollo said, his body feeling weaker by the second. The smaller man wasn't slim and Rollo was surprised that Fish could shoulder as much weight as the Duke was putting on him. They shuffled through the lower halls of the kitchens and up the servant's stairs. It was when they had reached the second floor corridor, where Rollo's rooms were, that they heard someone approaching. Fish quickly forced Rollo to walk faster, making it to his door just in time to shut and lock it behind them. Rollo grasped the chair as he anchored himself there, his leg throbbing with pain and shooting with cramps.

Fish helped him to his bed and that is when there was a knock at one of the servant's entrances. Fish moved from the bed to the entrance, listening through the door. "Who is it?" he asked, putting a hand on his blade.

"It's Devloo," came the familiar voice. "I bring an apothecary."

Fish swung the door open and allowed the two men through, the older one looking quite bewildered. He spotted Rollo laying on the bed, his brow wet and his face contorted in pain, and quickly attended him. He needed no instruction and immediately helped to remove Rollo's wet clothing. It was when he was down to nothing but his breeches that the apothecary made both Fish and Devloo turn away. He stripped the breeches from the wound and Rollo hissed at the burning sensation. He then urged Rollo to lay down on his back and rest.

It wasn't long before the comfort of the plush pillows engulfed him and he felt a sort of daze wash over him. The apothecary watched him, his eyes flitting from Rollo's face to his leg before offering him a vial. Rollo tried to focus on it but it was hard to do in his state. He was worn and tired and the throbbing from his wound made everything else seem insignificant. The apothecary must have understood because he grabbed a goblet from the side table, filled it with wine, and then dumped the liquid from the vial in it. He helped Rollo to sit up while Devloo and Fish waited patiently, watching as the man made Rollo drink the entire goblet of liquid. When he was done he lay back down and his body began to feel numb.

"You'll fall into a deep sleep now," the apothecary assured. "You'll be out for the day but it will help you to sleep through the pain. I will inspect and fix all that I can. Sleep now Duke Rollo…"

"The defenses," Rollo whispered, his body feeling relaxed now as he sank into the soft pillows and covers. "The Northmen… my brother…"

"We will take care of everything," Fish assured. "All will be well."

"Sleep now Duke Rollo," Devloo insisted, coming closer. "The defenses will hold."

Rollo felt so groggy, the room around him going dark as he fell into the darkness of sleep. He didn't realize how long he had been out or when it happened but when he woke it was dark outside, the fire in his hearth burning bright and the lamps and candles about the room burned dim. His eyes adjusted to the light and there, standing near the edge of his bed with a soft smile on his lips was Athelstan.

He could see Rollo's eyes widen and simply nodded at him, moving around the edge of the bed to sit next to him. "Hello Rollo," he said, his eyes scanning the man's body. "You look much better."

"How long?" Rollo asked, looking about. "Am I alive or dead, Athelstan?"

"You are alive," he assured. "And you've been asleep all day. Soon your captains will appear to fetch you for dinner. You should be able to move."

Rollo adjusted himself now, the stiffness in his back bothering him as he hoisted up onto his elbows. He then sat up against his pillow, looking about the room. Athelstan just sat on the edge of his bed, smiling kindly. Rollo removed the blankets from his chest and legs, revealing his naked body without any hesitation. He then glanced at his leg to see the dressed wound with some herbs, leaves, and pastes. It no longer ached and Rollo was fascinated.

"It is a paste of honey, calendula, horse chestnut, and thyme," Athelstan smiled. "A mixture used by many monks to reduce swelling and cure cuts and infections."

"Ragnar?" he asked, looking about. "How are the defenses?"

"I have not come to speak of Ragnar," Athelstan sighed. "I am sorry my friend. I am here to speak to you of God."

"God?" Rollo asked, confused. "Is this necessary?"

"Indeed," Athelstan assured. "Your wife, the princess Gisla is with child, correct?"

"She is," Rollo said, adjusting so he was more comfortable. He was becoming impatient.

"Your lineage is an important one," Athelstan smiled. "Generations from now your descendants will rule an entire kingdom and do you know what?" He smiled wider now, placing a hand on Rollo's injured leg. "It will all be in the name of God."

"You bring me prophecy of my lineage?" Rollo asked. "Does that mean I defeat my brother?"

"It only means that the child within your wife lives," Athelstan smiled. "You are meant to know that."

"And of me? What happens to my legend, my name?" Rollo felt a little light headed, his body feeling tense as he sat there talking with the dead monk.

"Like I have said," Athelstan replied, placing a hand upon Rollo's shoulder. "I am here to speak of God."

"Then speak," Rollo demanded, the pain returning to his leg. It was aching, a dull ache that, when he moved, flamed and burned.

"All will be well," Athelstan smiled. "The apothecary will sooth the burns when he returns with your captains. Soon they will be here."

"Speak of God, Athelstan," Rollo demanded. "Tell me of his promises."

"Promises?" Athelstan asked, grabbing Rollo's hand. He then looked down at his arm, a dark reaction on his face. Rollo noticed immediately and wondered what had offended the specter so. Then Athelstan looked him in the eyes, his pupils aflame with hatred. "Where is your armband? Where is your arm band, priest?" echoed Rollo's own voice, ushered from Athelstan's mouth. It boomed about the room and Rollo watched as Athelstan's face contorted and changed, revealing the face of a silver bearded one eyed man. He simply stared into Rollo's soul and Rollo could not react, could not move, and watched helplessly as the older man judged him, his wise eye purging Rollo like flames.

He awoke startled, thrashing about the bed. It was only when the apothecary spoke to him, calming words, that Rollo realized it was only a dream. He was still breathing heavily, scanning the room, when the apothecary sat down next to him. He removed the strewn blankets from the wounded leg and inspected the bandage. It was just like in the dream, the room lit by fireplace and lamps as the apothecary perched on the edge of the bed. He slowly peeled off the layers of wrap now, revealing the reddened and scarred skin. There were black marks where the flesh had been cut and burned but it looked as if it were sealed with red and mucous covered leaves.

"Don't be alarmed," the apothecary assured. "Devloo saved your life I believe. If he hadn't cut open your wound, bled it, and then sealed it again, you'd have gotten a fever and died."

"It was a miracle I didn't," Rollo admitted, looking about the room. "How long have I been out?"

"All day," the familiar response rang. "The captains should be up to get you for dinner soon."

"And my leg?"

"It is already healing," he admitted. "A little honey to fight infection, some herbs to help reduce inflammation and to ease the pain. I also added something new to soothe burns, something introduced from the east. We call it aloe… that is the mucous you see."

"It does not hurt as much," Rollo admitted. "It is as if the burning has entirely vanished."

"I will lather it up with aloe and bandage it tightly so that it does not rub," the apothecary said. "You should be able to walk but dinner will be in your dining chamber so it is a closer walk."

"Intimate," Rollo admitted. "Is that advisable?"

"Your captains can explain," the apothecary insisted. "I'm only the healer."

"So my wound is not life-threatening?"

"I would not recommend you jump back into battle for a couple of weeks," the apothecary sighed. "It is not what you want to hear but it is what I advise."

"And If I do fight?"

"Your wound could reopen and get infected yet again," the apothecary replied. "Then you'd be in the same position you were in yesterday."

"Then I don't know what else I can do," Rollo sighed. "I guess I cannot battle."

Rollo wasn't pleased by this at all, the realization that the opportunity to take out Count Odo was so close and yet he couldn't stand on his own two feet hit him hard. It ruined the plans he and Fish had made and it would thoroughly displease the Emperor. Rollo couldn't think about the problems this could represent for the future as well. That dream suddenly came back to him and he realized this could have been a very morbid warning, a glimpse into the demise of his future and the future of his children.

Rollo sighed, laying back into the pillows again as the apothecary worked on his leg. It was a few minutes later that the doors opened and his captains walked in. Devloo, Fish, and Torol all came over, inspecting his leg before smiling at their leader. He nodded, motioning down to the apothecary.

"The man says I cannot battle," he admitted, wincing as the apothecary tightened the new linens. "My wound could reopen and I could die anyway."

"Then you let us take care of it," Fish insisted. "Krey is in position, the towers and ramparts are fully stocked. Odo's men are surrounding the city as well as holding our position upriver. There has been no movement all day."

"Nothing at all?" Rollo asked, looking between them.

"Nothing, it is as if they are waiting for something," Torol said. "They've set up camp upriver and are still there, regrouping."

"Good," Rollo said. "They are coming up with a plan."

"We need to come up with a plan for you," Fish insisted. "You need to attend dinner."

"He can get up," the apothecary said, finishing the tie on his linen. "The bandage is tight so he can walk but he shouldn't extend himself. Stay seated as much as possible."

"This isn't going to work," Rollo growled, waving the apothecary away. "I'll be out after a moment. Fish, stay and assist me."

The other three men bowed, leaving the chamber and closing the door behind them. It was then that Rollo grabbed up the goblet on the stand and threw it across the room. It echoed with a loud clang before scuffling across the floor toward the wardrobe. Fish just sighed, leaning against the post of the bed.

"So, what's the plan now?" he asked, a smile coming over his face.

"I was going to ask you that," Rollo sneered. "I cannot battle or else I put myself at risk. But if I don't battle we are at even greater risk of looking weak."

"And what about Odo?" Fish asked. "He's not suspicious but he will be when you do not battle."

"I don't know," Rollo spat. "I don't know what to do about this."

"We need to formulate a plan and quick," Fish pointed. "We're having dinner with Odo shortly and we need to come up with a convincing but subtle solution for our problem."

"I'm open to suggestions," Rollo said, the sarcasm dripping from his lips. They both knew he didn't have another plan.

"Perhaps we suggest Odo take the lead, that you return to Paris and take up position there," Fish suggested.

"Too obvious," Rollo sighed. "If I am recalled to defend his city, he will know something is happening. That is his city, his guards and I am sure if confronted, he will bargain with my brother for peace under his reign."

"As Emperor?" Fish asked, his eyes widening. "He's mad…"

"He's ambitious and dangerous," Rollo assured. "So we need a plan that will work."

"You need to get dressed," Fish insisted. "We need to have you seated, at the table, before Odo arrives."

"I'll dress and you think then," Rollo chuckled, moving to stand. It wasn't as difficult as he imagined, his leg handling enough pressure to allow him to limp, without discomfort, toward the wardrobe. After clumsily putting on his breeches and tunic, his fine silks draped over his shoulders messily, he turned to Fish who was examining some papers on the table. Fish just chuckled when he spotted him, trying his best to adjust the Duke's outfit before turning back to the table. Rollo simply ambled over and leaned against it, looking down at the paperwork.

"Think of anything?" Rollo asked, feeling exhausted already. He glimpsed at the map laid out before him, the markers symbolizing the movements of the Northmen. They were far down stream still and their base-camp was south of the former guard towers. Rollo was pleased with the placement of their own troops and needed to quickly figure out how to coax Odo into the open without making him suspicious.

"I may have to be honest with him," Rollo finally said, looking at Fish. "I may have to admit that I'm injured and put my trust in him in hopes that he will think I am still a friend."

"And if he uses this weakness to his advantage?"

"What other choice do we have?" Rollo asked. "I cannot tell him I am not joining the battle; there is no good excuse for that other than an injury. And I cannot go into battle or pretend to either. I won't be able to battle for weeks."

"And if we tell him and he turns against you?" Fish asked. "This is the Emperor's request, is it not? To kill him?"

"Yes, but it is my destiny," Rollo whispered, standing up straight now. "I will tell him the truth and I trust that my captains will keep my best interests."

"You'll have no argument here," Fish sighed. He was always spontaneous and unpredictable but when someone else was, it discomforted him. He truly was an odd man.

Rollo strode from the table now, adjusting his jewels and clothing one last time before leaving his bed chamber. He could hear talking and laughter coming from the chamber below and he was curious as to who it was. It was no man, for the laughter was light and sounded like the song of a bird. Rollo limped down the stairs, his shoulders squared and his head held high. When he entered the room he spotted someone he wasn't sure he was thrilled to see. It was a dark haired woman, familiar to him from the court in Paris. She was slender, her eyes dark and her smile coy. She reminded him of a snake and he wasn't sure if he liked this. Odo was escorting her and the moment he spotted Rollo he broke free, nearly jogging over to the staircase.

"Duke Rollo," he said, his voice quiet. "So you were injured?"

"A cut that I had foolishly allowed to fester," Rollo admitted. "It is a small matter. I will just have a slight limp for the next few weeks."

"Will you not battle?" Odo asked, his eyes drifting from Fish to Rollo.

"No," Rollo admitted. "For the next couple of weeks I must trust in you, Count Odo, to fend off the pagans and their longboats." Rollo then looked about and leaned toward him, a slight smile on his face. "That is why you are here. The Emperor and I could trust no other; I recommended it."

Odo's eyes went slightly wide and Rollo could see the pride hidden behind their sincerity. Odo was just like Rollo and he knew what he was thinking; Odo was pleased with himself and the turn of events and he couldn't hide it from Rollo. Rollo simply smiled at him, nodding his approval. It wasn't long before Torol approached, bowing to both Odo and Rollo.

"Good to see you'd gotten some sleep," Torol said, a smile spread over his face. "The march here was a long one."

"I have good news," Rollo said, the other occupants of the room perking up. He recognized all of them; the woman, Devloo, Fish, Torol, and Odo all stood with glasses in their hands, a goblet being given to Rollo as well. "Count Odo has agreed to take up the defense of Rouen in my absence. It will be a short one, I assure you, but time to heal and recover is much needed so that I can continue to serve the Emperor and God."

"Wonderful!" the woman said, raising her glass. "To Count Odo!"

The rest of the men raised their cups, smiles plastered over their faces as they drank. The night had turned out to be quite pleasant, conversation circling around the capabilities of the Northmen, the plans of attack, and the final line of defense, should it come to it, up river near Paris. The guard towers between held archers and troop barracks but the chains were weaker, the strongest being the initial two and the final before the city's entrance.

They spoke of troop movements and options as well as possible outcomes for the city of Rouen. It was when Odo's escort, Therese, began speaking of court intrigue that the conversation became heated and a little more informal.

"So your telling me there is a countess, at court, who is writing a journal of sexual conquest?" Fish asked, his eyes wide.

"That is the rumor," Therese chuckled, sipping from her glass. "But this is only scratching the surface. Court in Paris is a place to explore the world, a place to explore the impossible."

"Such rumors surely are not fit for a lady," Torol insisted, sipping from his drink. He may have been a warrior, advanced in age, but he was still old fashioned nobility.

"It is interesting to see the different beliefs, the freedom of some people, at court," Rollo commented. "I would never have guessed there was such explorations."

"Tell us then," Therese said, smirking. "Do not the pagans explore one another in such ways?"

"Openly," Rollo admitted. "They would make love out in the open, in front of everyone because it is what the Gods celebrated, what they demanded."

"Such vulgarity in public," Odo commented. "Such acts are meant for man and wife, consenting lovers."

"So do the pagan's believe," Rollo insisted. "But they do not shy away from their wants and needs. They express them and share them with whom they will."

"How open," Therese said. "And fascinating."

"It is inappropriate for a lady," Torol insisted. "Surely there is much more interesting gossip than sexual exploits."

"I am afraid the ladies of court have little to talk about but fear and love," Therese admitted. "But there is an interesting rumor going about court that involves none other than Duke Rollo."

Rollo's eyes went wide and he sat his goblet down, a coy smirk on his face. He couldn't imagine the exploits the court had made up about him. It was no secret that Rollo and Gisla had hit it off, that their love life was the talk of court. Rollo wasn't sure what kind of rumors were started but they were probably interesting and a little unrealistic.

"Surely that is inappropriate," Devloo chuckled, drinking from his glass. "Duke Rollo is a pillar of Frankish culture and refinement, married to Princess Gisla herself. Surely it is inappropriate to talk about such a noble relationship."

"Your sarcasm is thick," Fish commented, a smirk on his lips. "Perhaps we should allow the lady her indulgence and gossip with her. Surely Rouen is boring for a noble woman of Paris."

"I am curious," Rollo admitted. "What sort of rumors could possibly exist about me? I am assuming the usual ones are still circulating, rumors of pagan allegiances and pacts with the devil."

"Always," Therese chuckled, refilling Odo's cup and then Rollo's. "But there is more interesting gossip." She sat back down now, sipping from her goblet with an excited grin.

"She keeps us waiting," Fish smirks. "Perhaps she is embarrassed of the details. Are you such a man, Duke Rollo?"

"Look at him," Devloo laughed. "He is any woman's fantasy. Strong, commanding, and certainly appealing to the poorest of nobility."

"You speak of a married man," Torol said, shaking his head in exasperation. "Such language…"

"Then allow the lady to speak," Fish insisted. "Tell us of these rumors."

"Such curiosity," Therese chuckled. "Well, of course there are the typical rumors of Duke Rollo's pagan origins but much of that has died down. Now, when the ladies of court gossip of Rollo's pagan origins, they speak of his skills as a lover and most certainly, his passion for his wife."

"Such praise," Fish smirked. "You're already a legend Rollo."

"This is not appropriate conversation for a lady," Torol insisted. Odo remained silent, his eyes roaming the faces of the room as he drank from his goblet.

"I am flattered," Rollo admitted. "But such rumors are not unfamiliar and are not so surprising."

"Such certainty," Therese smirked, looking over Rollo's face. "But these are indeed the boring rumors. Another rumor, going about court, is that you are an explorative lover as well as a demanding one."

Rollo could see where this conversation was going and saw the hard look in Odo's eyes as Therese spoke. Rollo simply chuckled at Therese and shrugged, looking about the table. It was entertaining but he could see the discomfort and the rage in Odo's eyes; he lusted over Gisla still and it burned him when rumors of their relationship were mentioned.

"Again, nothing new to my ears," Rollo smirked. "I guess I am not so easily shocked Lady Therese."

"Apparently Lady Therese is quite drunk," Odo commented, setting his cup down. "Perhaps shady rumors about the ladies of court should be kept amongst ladies."

"Rumors are the most interesting bit about court life," Fish chuckled. "The romance, the intrigue, and the plots make it all that much better."

"We little lords and barons are easily entertained," Devloo smirked.

"And that is why we are so easily excitable," Fish commented. "Torol over here would disagree, but we small men enjoy intrigue and gossip from court."

"Indeed I disagree," Torol commented. "Such inappropriate chatter for a good Christian woman."

"We are all sinners Captain Torol," Therese commented, setting her cup down on the table. "And at court there are many sinners."

"Perhaps we should wrap up here," Odo said, standing now.

"Oh come now Odo," Therese smiled. "No need to be embarrassed. Gossip can be fun."

"And dangerous," Torol warned, standing up as well.

"Nonsense," Therese chuckled. "Duke Rollo, there is so much more interesting gossip surrounding you and the princess."

"Therese," Odo groaned. "Please, enough. It is late and your gossip is unpleasant."

"So harsh Count Odo," she shrugged. "Feel free to leave. It is quite late for you…"

"It is," he assured, bowing to Rollo. "I will dine with you tomorrow and we will talk more of defenses." He then made his way around the table and left the room, the servant following to attend him. Torol shrugged as he left, smiling at Rollo before bowing and leaving the room as well. Fish and Devloo remained seated, drinking from their goblets and talking more about court gossip.

"Such lude gossip,"Devloo chuckled. "Please, Lady Therese, tell us more."

"Indeed, we've heard little gossip and the way you tell stories is exhilarating," Fish insisted. "Sit, drink, and tell us more."

"You are all so hospitable," Therese chuckled, standing and refilling their cups, even Rollo's. "There are many rumors surrounding many members of the Emperor's inner circle." She sat back down now, leaning back in her chair with an excited grin. "There is a rumor going about that the Emperor is displeased with his councilman, Count Odo, and that he is looking to replace him."

Rollo was taken aback, his eyes widening as he looked directly at her. Fish was stunned as well, the accuracy of her facts seeming a little too convenient. Rollo was sure she was Odo's mistress so her knowledge of their movements was a problem. However, it was Devloo who spoke, his voice a bit unsteady.

"You speak so openly of treason, of plots concerning the Emperor," he nervously chuckled. "Perhaps you are a bit too drunk Lady Therese."

"You are easily spooked," she commented, looking at Devloo. "There is much at court that is treasonous but it is our right, as citizens, to speak freely about rumors and gossip. How else would the Emperor remain protected? Every plot must be rooted out."

"I am no pious man," Devloo admitted. "But there are times when I know that I am far past my limit. I enjoy my head on my shoulders." He then downed the rest of his goblet, setting it down and smirking before push himself back from the table. "Tonight was interesting gentlemen, lady," he bowed, standing from the table. "I'll see you tomorrow for I must to bed."

"Goodnight Captain Devloo," Fish said, looking between Devloo and Rollo. When the door finally shut behind him Fish turned to Therese, his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"So, a plot involving the Emperor?" Fish asked, offering to refill her cup. "Where do you hear such rumors?"

"It is no rumor," she assured, holding out her cup for him. "I know it for a fact."

"How?" Fish pressed, filling her cup.

"You see, I was the one who told the Emperor of the plot against him," she smirked, sipping from her cup. She looked between the two men sitting at the table and then down into her cup, a twinkle in her eyes. "I am Odo's lover and his language, his plots, are revealed to me and only me."

"Why would you tell us this?" Rollo asked, his eyes watching her face closely.

"I am on your side," she said, looking between the two men. "I take it you both are in on the plot?"

"We've been tasked with disposing of him," Fish admitted. "But you are a mystery… what is it you want?"

"To assist you," she assured. "You will need it."

"And in return?" Rollo asked.

"I will get what I want when Odo is dead," she assured, taking another sip from her goblet. "I will help you achieve our mutual goals."

"You chose an odd way to signal your allegiance," Fish sighed, rubbing his temple. "You could have been more subtle."

"I knew of no other way to rid ourselves of Odo," she admitted. "Gossip is distasteful and he trusts that I will hold only his confidence. He probably believes I am telling Fish all about court gossip and scandalous women. Though he trusts me, I cannot stay much longer."

"Your assistance may be much needed," Rollo admitted. "My injury has halted our original plans."

"I am sure it has," she smiled. "And we shall formulate a new plan. Your friendly cover will convince Odo, I am sure."

"We will speak more at another time," Rollo said, moving to stand. "I am weary and the conversation is tiring."

"We'll leave you," Fish said, nodding. "Get some sleep. The days to come will be hard."

"Indeed," Therese nodded. "Hard for all of us. We better hope you are back in prime condition because if not, Odo may be an impossible conquest."

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 **Thanks for reading! Please review. :D**


	16. Chapter 16

**Greetings readers. I know it has been forever and OMG look at that ending?! I know you saw the MIDSEASON finale of Vikings. I had no idea it was going to be a midseason. I am super stoked! Anyway, here is the latest chapter. A few more to go. I would love to reimagine a sequel considering there has been a HUGE time jump. :D WOO. So please, read, review, and who knows... I might come up with a sequel story.**

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"How can this happen?!" Rollo fumed, his eyes narrowing on the men around him. Odo had taken up the defense of Rouen and in the week that followed their forces had suffered several casualties. Odo held the towers as the Northmen assaulted them, pushing them back with the chain and archers but Ragnar and his forces had managed to prevail. They had overcome the far banks and managed to capture the tower; Odo's impatience had cost them the towers and the river defense of Rouen. Instead of waiting for the Northmen to come ashore, Odo sent out their own fleet, hoping to combat and confuse them as they were before. He had hoped, as he vigorously tried to explain, that by hitting them head on, it would pile them much like it did before. However, his plan backfired; Ragnar and his troops were able to out-maneuver the Frankish ships and cause their own chaos. Captain Krey and what remained of their ships in Rouen barely made it back to the city alive.

"Explain to me," Rollo fumed, slamming his fist on the table. "How it is you failed? We were in perfect defensive position and we outnumbered them. How is it that they managed to overrun the towers and port?"

"The battle was a mess," Fish admitted. Krey, who had arrived last, was standing behind him, the blood and dirt from battle still fresh on his face.

"Explain your orders," Rollo insisted, looking at Odo. "Explain it to me. This should have been an easy defense."

"The fleet was not up to par," Odo confessed. "It was my idea to use the fleet but it was not my idea to so poorly train them."

"Are you calling my men into question?" Krey asked, his eyes narrowed. "Our training was not the problem. The mistake is with the commander who mismanaged his troops and assets. Had you not been focused on trapping and out maneuvering the Northmen, we could have prevented the fall of the tower with our own fleet."

"I made no mistakes," Odo said, looking down at the map on the table. "My orders were the right ones. The fault lies with the incompetence of the soldiers and sailors who could not follow orders."

"Were you not the one to direct the soldiers?" Fish asked, his hand clenching in annoyance. "You were impatient, you did not wait for them to approach us. Instead, against advisement, you went headlong into the fray without any idea of what was to come. You assumed that you'd confuse them and make them hesitate but instead it made them bolder and revealed several weaknesses in our own construction and organization."

"And now our defense of the river, the port, and this city has fallen apart," Devloo commented. "We need a new plan and fast."

"This failure is overwhelmingly brutal," Torol said. "We cannot hope to gain access to the river from the docks and we cannot hope to fight them back."

"We are not so lost," Fish insisted. "We can march upon them and they won't be expecting it so soon."

"For good reason," Odo said. "Our troops are just barely holding them back from the city walls. We cannot mount a counter strike when we are pinned down like this."

"We would not be pinned down if you'd have listened to counsel," Krey said. "Our boats are anchored upriver and our troops are standing by. I say we launch simultaneous attacks from the river and the shores."

"They will be expecting a stand," Rollo sighed, leaning back in his chair. It had been a week and though his wound had closed, and was still sore, he was unable to leave the castle. The apothecary was adamant about him staying off his feet so as not to reopen the wound but Rollo had grown complacent sitting in his chambers and castle. He had watched, with anger, as the fleet was nearly overrun on Odo's orders and he had almost mounted up to take command. "Rouen is not their goal; Paris is."

"So what do you recommend?" Torol asked, looking between the men at the table. "Retreat?"

"Of course," Rollo said, feeling exasperated. "It is our only legitimate option."

"We should not abandon Rouen so lightly," Odo insisted. "We cannot allow them to take hold here, a province so vital to Paris."

"We have no choice!" Fish spat. "We're spread too thin and the defense of Rouen would cripple our defense of Paris."

"Remember to whom you speak," Odo warned, his eyes narrowing. "If we retreat now we risk looking even weaker. We also would have to maneuver our troops a long distance at a quick pace in order to beat the Northmen to Paris."

"Then why are you all still here?" Rollo asked, his eyes narrowing at Fish and Krey.

"We cannot hope to beat their ships while marching on land," Fish assured.

"We should wait for the cover of darkness," Devloo insisted. "We can create a decoy with the city guard and signal the retreat. It will give us a full night's head start."

"Spread the word within the ranks," Rollo agreed. "We'll pull out after nightfall. Make the arrangements."

"And the city?" Odo asked, his eyes narrowed. "We cannot abandon the city."

"They will not remain here," Rollo insisted. "The prize is Paris so when they discover that we have moved on, they will follow."

"Will we leave it defenseless? Let them raid and pillage?"

"We will keep the city guard intact, keeping the gates closed," Rollo sighed, looking at Fish. "Can we spare a battalion to man the city until the enemy has moved on?"

"We can spare a dozen men at most," Fish insisted. "We need the reinforcements upriver."

"Very well," Rollo nodded. "Keep our best archers on the ramparts. The rest of the troops will silently prepare to move out after nightfall."

Fish simply bowed, nodding for Krey and Devloo to follow. They both bowed to Rollo before leaving the room, their faces stern with annoyance. Odo had that effect on them and Rollo could not blame them for begrudging him. He had lost their primary defense, their forward command, to the raiding pagans and offered little in the way of recompense.

"I will leave you both to your plans and sure up the officers," Torol said, turning to bow to Rollo and Odo. "I will come find you tonight, before we leave."

Rollo simply nodded as Torol left, his strides quick and meaningful. Odo sighed now, looking at the maps on the table. Rollo took this opportunity to pour some wine, offering the cup to the count with a soft smile.

"I am sorry they are so disrespectful," Rollo said. "They are brash men but they are honest and skilled."

"I take no offense," Odo admitted. "They are rightfully disappointed and understandably frightened. I cannot fault any man for that."

"It is not so bleak," Rollo assured. "We will make our strongest showing at the main towers before the gates of Paris."

"Here we will turn them around," Odo assured. "Make a grand showing."

"I agree," Rollo smiled. "Nothing is lost."

"You have been most kind and generous Duke Rollo," Odo said, a smile on his face. "I am in your debt."

"A friendship like yours is one that is both cherished and strategic," Rollo smiled. "We may not be the same but I believe we share the same goals."

"The defeat of the Northmen and the salvation of Paris is all that I strive for," Odo said, raising his glass. "So, let us prepare for retreat and the long march upriver. It will take us several days to reach the final towers."

"How long do you suspect? Five, six days tops?"

"If we push the troops we can make it to Paris within five days," Odo said, looking over the map. "Using the horses for the officers and the wagons for our supplies, we should be able to reach the city a day before the troops."

"I will have Torol and Devloo manage the troops on the road to Paris," Rollo insisted, looking over the markings on the map. "We need men we can trust to push the soldiers onward."

"Torol is well respected," Odo admitted. "His father served as a general under Charlemagne."

"The troops know his character, they know his name," Rollo smiled. "Almost as well as they know yours."

"Not as well as yours though, Duke Rollo," Odo admitted, finishing his cup of wine. "I will ready the troops and coordinate the wagons and horses for the journey. I shall meet you again tonight. In the meantime, get some rest. It is a hard ride from Rouen to Paris."

"Thank you again, Count Odo," Rollo said, nodding at him. "I am counting on you."

Odo left the room after that and Rollo could feel the heavy cloud of self-satisfaction that swarmed him as he did. It made Rollo furious to stand here, act a friend to a man he absolutely loathed, and then use kind words to boost his self-worth. Rollo could feel the thick glass of the goblet in his hand start to crack as he held it, his anger rising to the point of bursting. He didn't understand why he could kill him then and there. The Emperor and Gisla both insisted that it was tactics which would avoid further war and mistrust but he felt like all that he had accomplished was going in circles. Odo was infuriating, incompetent, and undeniably proud; Rollo could not wait to separate his head from his body.

"Duke Rollo!" came a voice from ahead and Rollo raised his eyes to the man approaching. He was dressed in a city guard uniform and was pulling his horse up as he approached. "Duke Rollo! I am glad you've made it back safely. The Emperor commands your presence in the palace."

"I shall be there shortly," Rollo assured the man, looking about. Odo had ridden alongside him most of that final day, the troops little more than a day behind as they thundered up river toward Paris. Now, however, he was nowhere to be seen. Rollo looked back across the troops that followed him, their caravan heavy with supplies and weary men. Rollo spotted Odo's horse now, keeping pace with the troops and wagons that rolled along the riverbanks. He turned back to the man, nodding for him to lead the way.

The two men galloped toward the main gate, the bridge across the river coming into view as they approached. The bells inside were ringing and the bustle of the city met their ears, echoed in the wooden bridge across the Seine. Rollo urged his horse forward through the crowds that parted as the men approached. Many were smiling and waving and others were cheering; the sight was a little confusing and as Rollo approached the palace keep he saw the palace guard approaching. After helping Rollo off the horse and taking it to the stables, the remaining guards escorted Rollo into the halls. As he made his way to the Emperor's suite he spotted one of his wife's servants carrying a large pile of linens toward their chambers. When she saw Rollo looking at her she averted her eyes, darting away, no doubt to his wife's side.

"Duke Rollo!" came a voice and he turned to see the king eagerly awaiting his arrival. He was accompanied by none other than Roland and Lady Therese.

"Majesty," Rollo nodded, bowing to his new father.

"Come," he said, placing a hand on Rollo's shoulder and leading him into his chamber. "We have much to discuss."

The doors swung shut behind him and Roland offered him a goblet of wine, motioning for him to take a seat at the small round table in the king's study. Rollo complied, sipping from the cup and taking a seat across from the Emperor. He smiled as he did, motioning for the other two to sit as well.

"We have much to discuss and we have very little time to do it," the Emperor admitted. "Sir Roland will explain."

"To sum up," Roland began, nodding at his sister. "Therese has been count Odo's lover for several months now. Ever since princess Gisla rejected him during the first battle with the Northmen. In this time he has used her as his own personal whipping doll for sexual pleasure but he has also confided in her his desires. He wishes to become Emperor and will, when the time is right, betray you and overthrow the Emperor. This, we have confirmed through deceiving him into thinking that I and my sister are his closest companions. The Emperor, as you've been informed, wants the Count dead and since your injury has prevented this from happening on the battlefield we have decided to take the count into custody."

"Will he not resist?" Rollo asked, his eyes narrowed. "I thought his allies would overwhelm our own forces?"

"With the threat of the Northmen so close," Roland admitted. "Infighting between nobles has become less frequent and I am sure the majority of them would be grateful for Odo's demise."

"So what is the plan?" Rollo asked. "What do you need me for?"

"We will have him arrested after his punishment," Roland smirked. "We come to you because I, as well as my sister and the Emperor, understand your hatred for the man. We come offering you a hand in his downfall."

"That is considerate," Rollo admitted. "How will you do it?"

"We will whip him until he is unable to move," Therese spoke up, a similar smirk spreading over her face. "And we want you to be there as well."

"You are overly cruel," Rollo sighed. "The man is pompous, power hungry, deceitful, and cruel but his death should be quick and at the hands of someone who is an expert in killing."

"You would end his suffering prematurely?" the Emperor asked, his eyes widening. He looked like he was wholly interested in what Rollo had to say.

"I would," Rollo admitted. "It would be my greatest pleasure to arrest him and behead him for treason in the name of the Emperor but to torture a man who has served this city is distasteful, even for him."

"A merciful Northman?" Therese commented. "This is a true oddity."

"He is no Northman," came a familiar voice and Rollo bolted up, turning to wrap his young wife in his arms. "Hello husband," she whispered, the chamber doors shutting behind her.

"Hello," he said with a smile. She immediately noticed how he was babying his leg and pressed him to sit back down, her hands going to his larger one to cradle it.

"He is Magistrate of Rouen, Duke of Normandy," Gisla asserted, her eyes narrowing on Therese. "And he speaks truth. Your plan is overly cruel and unnecessary. Your revenge clouds your judgement and opens up opportunities of escape and collusion."

"Such kind words from a woman who hates the count," Roland interjected. "Was it not you, princess, who first warned against Odo's influence?"

"It was," she confirmed. "And he is a traitor to our country but that does not warrant such barbaric punishment. We are a Christian nation."

"You would have him arrested and tried for treason?" the Emperor asked, his eyes wide. "You, my daughter?"

"He deserves to burn in all seven hells," she admitted, her eyes dark. "But he is a Christian Count who deserves a clean death as well."

"You're too soft," Therese sneered. "Why bother catching the rat if you only wish to give it a quick death? You should savor the capture."

"I will not entertain such ideas," Gisla admitted. "Do as you please father. I am taking my husband to our chambers. He needs rest."

"As you wish daughter," he said, standing and dismissing them with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

When they had left the chamber Gisla immediately turned to Rollo, wrapping him tightly in her arms. He sighed, smelling the soft perfume in her hair and feeling the grip about his waist tighten as he pulled away. She was watching him, her eyes wide with wonder and fear. He wasn't sure why but he just smiled down at her, kissing her forehead softly.

"Wife," he said, his beard brushing her cheek as he rested his forehead on her shoulder, her own hands pulling him closer.

"Husband," she sighed, her heart fluttering under his cheek.

"Are you well?" he asked, his eyes narrowing on her. "Are you eating well? Are you being careful?"

"I am," Gisla whispered. "Though I have still been training, swinging an axe and lifting shields."

"It may be too much stress," Rollo whispered, his eyes darting around the corridor for others who may be listening. "What did the midwife say?"

"All is well," she assured, placing a hand on her stomach. "He grows stronger by the day."

"Good," Rollo whispered, his lips brushing hers. "You and he are the only reasons I fight on."

"Are you so sad?" Gisla asked, her eyes wide as she looked up at him.

"Not sad," Rollo admitted.

"We will raise our son," Gisla admitted. "We will raise him to be a great warrior like his father, like my great-grandfather, Charlemagne."

"Come," Rollo urged, moving toward the staircase. "Let us speak in private."

Gisla nodded, following her weary husband up the stairs toward their suite. When they entered their chambers, locking the doors behind them, Rollo picked Gisla up gently, moving to lay her in bed. He kicked off his boots and pulled off his heavy cloak and tunic before crawling into the bed next to her. Rollo hadn't realized when it happened but he woke up with a start, realizing that his wife was absent from his arms. He sat up slowly, looking about the room. It was still midday, the sun shining through the colored glass windows as he stared about the room. It was quiet and his wife was nowhere in sight, her cloak draped over one of the chairs around the table.

He moved from the bed to the table, pouring himself some wine from the pitcher and downing it. He wasn't sure what was going on and with all of the uncertainty surrounding the city and Gisla carrying his child, he wanted to leave nothing to chance. As he walked about the chamber, sipping from his goblet, he heard a noise coming from the large walk in closet. It was here that all of Gisla's gowns and Rollo's tunics were kept, the servants maintaining their baubles and dressings. As he approached the door to the chamber he could hear soft sighing. He immediately paused, listening as the familiar sighs and giggling of his wife drifted to him from their closet. He peaked around the corner as he set his goblet down on the large desk, smiling at the scene within.

Gisla was standing in front of the polished metal mirror, its length stretching from the ceiling to the floor, reflecting her figure in it. He was surprised at her because she was naked, inspecting her toned body's reflection in the mirror. Her hands were running over her body, her fingertips grazing her pale skin as she explored her curves. She looked at herself curiously, her eyes narrowing as she pinched and caressed her skin, grinning when her nipples peaked under her touch. Her hands then drifted over her stomach and to the small bulge that had formed. She caressed her skin slowly, looking at herself in the mirror before looking down at her belly. He could see a wider smile spreading over her lips as she caressed and cradled her hands, and then arms, around her waist.

Rollo couldn't help but walk up behind her and wrap his arms around her hips, placing his large hands flat against her stomach. When he did she sighed, smiling brightly at their reflection in the mirror. Rollo couldn't help but smile back, kissing her shoulder gently. "You are so beautiful," Rollo whispered. "We look so happy."

"Aren't we?" she asked, leaning into his chest.

"We have everything," Rollo whispered. "Money, land, title, and now a child is on the way. Why would we not be happy?"

"I cannot think of a reason to be unhappy," Gisla admitted, placing her own hands over his. "Except that I fear you will not return to me the next time you leave."

"It is a possibility," Rollo whispered, his lips grazing her neck. "But I will not leave you alone. I will return."

"Then I have nothing to be unhappy about," she replied, turning her head to capture his lips with hers, her tongue darting out over his lips hungrily. She didn't care if the dirt from the road caked his face and arms; she would make love to him if it were not dangerous to do so. She turned in his arms now, his hands trialing over her hips and back while his tongue battled hers. It was only when she started to lean against him more that Rollo noticed something was wrong. She was paler now and she slowly pulled away from his lips, her own quivering as she leaned her head against his chest.

"What is wrong?" he asked, his arms cradling her against him. She looked tired now and he couldn't help but lift her off her feet and carry her from the room.

"You need not be so delicate," she sighed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "It is only a faint spell. The child is demanding; he is strong."

"You are heavy with my child," Rollo smiled, kissing her cheek. "Did you expect less?"

"I expect him to demand all of my care and attention," Gisla admitted. "And in return, I expect him to be an honorable Christian lord."

"You may be disappointed," Rollo whispered, setting her on the bed gently. "What if he is not honorable? What if my blood runs thick in his veins?"

"You are honorable," Gisla insisted. "And smart and powerful. You are my Rollo and everyone will see you as I do."

"As you do?" Rollo asked, offering her a cup of wine. She took it from him and sipped on it, watching him closely. "I am unsure what you mean."

"I mean that I love you and know that you are destined for greatness," Gisla smiled, squeezing his arm. "Perhaps I do not say it enough but I feel it here," she said, placing a hand on her stomach. "And here," she finished, touching her heart.

"Then I am the happiest man that ever lived," he gushed, his eyes meeting hers, a soft smile within them. He moved onto the bed now, allowing her to rest her head on his chest, his hand caressing her long brown locks of hair. It was only after a few minutes of silence that she looked up, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"Why were you so merciful about Count Odo's fate?" she asked, her fingers lacing with his on her stomach.

"Because he may be a threat and I may hate him," Rollo admitted, pulling the soft linen blanket over her naked body. "But I will not dishonor a man's final moments of life."

"And you say you are not honorable?" Gisla asked, her eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "What man would give his enemy such compassion?"

"What woman would forgive her enemy?" he replied, a smirk growing on his face. "You opposed the plan too."

"For lesser reasons than yours," she mumbled, kissing his chest gently. "I only opposed it because that woman came up with it."

"Lady Therese?" Rollo asked, his eyebrow raising. "Why?"

"Because she and her upstart brother have placed themselves in my father's confidence and that is dangerous for us as well."

"I don't understand," Rollo said, tracing circles on her lower back.

"Whoever is closest to the king is the one who holds the most power," Gisla admitted. "And Therese and Roland are closest to my father now."

"Then I must convince your father that I am the only one he can rely on," Rollo smirked, Gisla's eyes going slightly wide with wonder and lust. Rollo noticed this immediately and began caressing her skin, his lips finding hers with a rhythmic passion. It was when he began to softly stroke her soft center that she pulled away, refusing him access. He must have looked puzzled because she just smiled over at him, her lips finding his cheek.

"We cannot lie together," Gisla whispered. "It is too dangerous for the child… for my condition."

"I don't understand," Rollo admitted, his hand going to cup her breast. She sighed softly and pulled away. "Why?"

"You could hurt the child or damage me," she said, her eyes finding his. "Only when the child is born can we make love freely."

"Women where I am from love their man until they are well developed, even up until the day of the birth," Rollo said, his hand caressing her cheek.

"Things in Frankia are much different," she assured. "It is inappropriate and dangerous."

Rollo simply leaned back against the headboard, unsure what to make of her words. If he could not make love to her until their child was born, he would be a very lonely man. What was worse was that she had turned him on, touching and inspecting herself in the mirror like he had found. It was unfair and the more he thought about it the more uncontrollable he felt. Finally, he pushed her off of him, allowing her to slide onto the bed as he got up from under her.

"Please do not be mad," she begged, her eyes following him.

"I am not mad," he admitted, his eyes drifting to the window. "I am frustrated. I want to lay with my wife; tomorrow may be my last day in this world and I want to make love to my woman."

"Rollo," she whispered, her hands clasped in her lap. "I did not mean to frustrate you." She wasn't looking at him, her eyes sad as she focused on her interlocked fingers. She looked so sad in that moment and Rollo wasn't sure what to do. He was stunned at the overwhelming beauty of her sadness; perched among soft linens and feathered pillows was his swollen wife but she radiated beauty like a goddess. Rollo simply bit his lip, sauntering over to the side of the bed and plopping onto the edge. Gisla's eyes shot up to find his and he couldn't help but smile, his hand grasping hers.

"Do not be sad," he said, kissing her cheek. "I was being selfish."

"You could die tomorrow," Gisla whispered, her lip quivering with the words. She then turned to look at Rollo, her eyes fierce with determination. "I will be there with you, on the towers."

"You will not," Rollo said, his eyes wide. "You will be here, safe within the city."

"I will not," she protested, pulling her hands from his and placing them on his shoulders. "I will be standing next to you as you repel the pagan raiders and claim ultimate victory."

"It is too dangerous," Rollo insisted, his eyes pleading. "I will not risk your life, or the life of our child, on something so reckless."

"I will not stand idly by while you defend my city, my people!"

"Our city," Rollo insisted, his eyes staring into hers. "Our people…"

"Do not leave me behind," she begged, her hands squeezing his shoulders. "Let me be the beacon of hope for our soldiers, let me stand beside you."

"You speak of leaving," Rollo whispered, kissing her lips softly, his words brushing her cheek. "When I have only returned to your arms."

"Then stay in my arms," she insisted, her hands pulling him closer. "Come, if the pagan women can make love then so can I."

Rollo just smirked, removing the blanket from her naked body and engulfing her in his warmth. He was cautious, languidly exploring and teasing the whole time, never once being rough. At one point his greedy young wife had become impatient, her nails digging into his skin as he finally quickened pace. It was only after, when they were entangled in one another's arms, that Gisla spoke of her weeks alone. She told him of court intrigue, how her father had grown closer to Therese and Roland, and how Odo's allies shrank in number.

"It sounds like you were quite busy," Rollo smirked. "Did you really threaten her handmaid?"

"Lady Therese and her brother are snakes, dangerous snakes in my father's bed," Gisla said, her eyes narrowed. "They need to be discredited."

"And how would we do this?"

"My spies are watching their every move," she whispered. "They are loyal to me and fearful of my husband's wrath." She kissed his lips now, smirking. "You're quite the bargaining chip, husband."

"Glad to be of some assistance," he chuckled. "But what would convince your father to trust me after Odo is gone?"

"Me," she said with a nod. "My devotion to my father, to Paris, and to God will convince my father."

"He would trust a snake to rid his bed of snakes?"

"Harsh words," she protested, her eyes wide. "I am no snake."

"No," Rollo smirked, capturing her lips again, his tongue darting across them gently. "My wife is no snake; she is a princess."

She just chuckled, holding him close, her head buried in his chest. She sighed, kissing his skin before tilting her head to look at him, a question burning behind her eyes. He just looked back at her quizzically, a knowing look coming over her face.

"I am the princess," she said, more like a statement than a question. "And you are the bear?"

"You remembered," he said, kissing her forehead.

"I did," she nodded. "You told me we were destined. I didn't believe you then."

"And now?"

"I do not doubt it," she assured, trying to press herself closer to him. "You and I were designed by God himself."

"And our son will sire a dynasty," Rollo whispered, remembering Athelstan's words. "A kingdom of God."

"I do not lie," came a familiar voice. Gisla had nearly screamed out if it wasn't for Rollo's sudden and joyful laughter.

"Athelstan," he managed to laugh. "Always the most convenient of times."

"Who is this monk?" Gisla demanded, her eyes wide. "I've seen him before! Yes, many months ago."

"I came to you one night princess," Athelstan confessed. "While you slept near the hearth. Do you remember?"

"I do," she breathed, her eyes wide. "That night changed my life."

"I have also visited Rollo," Athelstan confessed. "Many times."

"Many?" Gisla demanded, her eyes meeting Rollo's. "He never mentioned it to me even though I had told him everything about our encounter."

"No need to be upset," Athelstan assured. "Rollo believed he was going mad but now he sees I am no ghost."

"He is from my past," Rollo said, moving to sit up. "He was an English monk that my brother spared and fostered."

"And he is able to come and go as he pleases?"

"As God pleases," Rollo said, Athelstan's smile widening. "He is dead, killed by Floki the Boatbuilder."

"So he is a specter," Gisla whispered. "A dead man."

"I would not try to classify Athelstan," Rollo insisted. "He is hard to define."

"I am afraid," Gisla said, her hands grasping Rollo's arm. "Why is he here?"

"I mean you no harm," Athelstan assured, moving around the table toward the bed. "I am here for the last time."

"The last time?" Rollo asked, his eyes narrowing. "Do you mean that you are finally able to rest?"

"I am at rest," he smiled. "God sustains me and keeps me in his good graces. I cannot ask for more."

"You are touched by God," Gisla breathed, moving to stand but Rollo stopped her, covering her naked body with linens. She pushed away from him, dropping the linens on the bed before sliding off of it. She stood face to face with Athelstan now, her eyes watching his face closely. Then, much to Rollo's surprise, she grabbed Athelstan's hand and placed it upon her swollen belly. "Angel of God please bless my child."

"Your child is blessed princess," Athelstan assured, his palm spread over her pale skin. "He will have a long and prosperous life."

"It is a boy," she smiled, tears forming in her eyes.

"A son for the princess and the bear," Athelstan grinned, kissing her forehead gently. "Be very careful princess; your child will be demanding and difficult."

"Like his father," she smiled, kissing Athelstan's cheeks and then his hands. "Thank you blessed angel of God. Please, I must ask one more thing of you…"

"I cannot protect him," Athelstan sighed, his eyes searching hers. "I know not what will happen and I have not the power to interfere."

"Would God see my child fatherless?"

"God has a plan, of that I am sure," Athelstan nodded. "But what his plan is, I cannot guess."

"Surely God wishes for his good Christian people to triumph?"

"He may," Athelstan responded, smiling at Rollo. "But I come to wish you farewell."

"You've revealed yourself to me at the most unexpected times," Rollo said, moving to stand. "Yet each time you've never truly revealed your purpose. What have you truly come for?"

"If you believe that I was sent for a specific purpose, as part of some grand plan, than I will have to disappoint you."

"Surely you have a higher purpose for being here," Rollo insisted. "Or did you miss me?"

"As I have said," Athelstan nodded, grabbing the linen from the bed and handing it to Gisla. "You needed help and I wanted to offer."

"Help?" Gisla asked, wrapping the linen around herself and sitting back on the bed.

"I was lost," Rollo admitted, placing a hand on Gisla's shoulder. "I was new to this city, to these people, and at the time my wife despised me."

"You struggled as any man would," Athelstan smirked, looking down at Gisla knowingly.

"I was frightened," she protested. She then looked up at Athelstan. "So it was you who brought Rollo to God?" Gisla asked, her eyes widening.

"It was God who brought me to Rollo's aid," Athelstan nodded. "I could not leave my friend, a fellow tortured soul, in such purgatory."

"Then I owe you everything," Gisla whispered, grasping Rollo's hand and looking up at him. He couldn't help but smile back at her, kissing her forehead before turning back to Athelstan.

"So this is goodbye?" Rollo asked. He felt both sad and happy, he could not describe it. The way Athelstan stood, his peaceful presence, and his trademark grimace made Rollo feel sad that he would no longer see it. At the same time, he was more than happy to see his friend, the once pious monk, reach his God.

"We will meet again," Athelstan smiled. "Though I cannot say if it is sooner or later."

* * *

 **Rollo took the high road on Count Odo?! Yes, he did. He's a viking. What fun is defeating an enemy, for Rollo, if he can't do it on the battlefield? So woo. Also, Athelstan is finally gone?! Oh no... :( More to come. So grateful for all of my readers. Please review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Wow, it has been so long. I am so sorry. I am hoping to finish this up in the next couple months so here is a new chapter that recounts the midseason finale of season 4! :D Hope you enjoy it and I really appreciate my readers.**

* * *

Rollo groaned at the sight of Odo being dragged before the Emperor, his face sweaty and strained. Roland and Therese had gone through with their plan and now, in front of the Emperor, his generals, and his nobles, Odo was brought to his knees to confess his betrayal.

Rollo and Gisla stood to the right of her father, his eyes honed in on Odo's strained face. He sat upon his throne lazily and for a brief moment, Rollo felt bad for Odo's humiliation in front of _this_ king. It was so different from what he knew; at least Vikings give a man equal respect to defend himself.

"Count Odo," the Emperor said, looking over the man's form. "You've been convicted of treason! Here, before all these witnesses, I will hear your confession."

The room was uneasily silent as Odo's breathing hitched and his eyes found the Emperor's. He looked somewhat desperate but his immense pride steadied him. "I confess to aspirations beyond my reach," he said, his voice deep and angered. "I confess to serving a weak and emotional king by protecting his beloved city for his daughter's savage beast of a husband. I confess that I, Count Odo, sought to bring the greatness of Charlemagne back by overthrowing his weak and useless grandson!"

"Treason!" the Emperor spat, standing from his throne. "Guards! Take off his head!"

"Emperor," Rollo spoke, unable to stop himself. He didn't even know why he spoke or what he hoped to achieve. "Allow me to take care of it."

The Emperor's eyes met Rollo's and he could see the desperation and anger the older man radiated. He only stood there, staring at Rollo in surprise and rage. Gisla, who stood beside Rollo looked at her father expectantly and he immediately snapped out of it, smiling slightly to regain his composure.

"You are right my son," he said, smiling over the room of frightened onlookers. "We shall do this as we always have. Count Odo, you are sentenced to die by beheading. Tomorrow morning the whole of Paris will witness your treason. Guards, lock him away." He waved his hand toward Odo and the guards immediately grabbed him under his arms, pulling him from the room. "Now, I bid you all good day! Leave me!"

The room shuffled out behind Odo and the guards, Rollo and Gisla walking arm-in-arm toward the door behind them. "Wait," the Emperor called, waving at them. "Rollo, stay a moment."

Gisla looked up at Rollo, then her father, and nodded, leaving the room slowly. Once the doors were shut, the guards on the other side, the emperor sighed, sitting on his throne. He pinched the bridge of his nose and the crown sagged slightly over his dark and graying curls.

"Duke Rollo," he said with a quavering voice. "Son… I would take your honest advice."

"It is the only advice I possess majesty," Rollo said, moving back toward him and standing level with his face so he could look into his eyes. "What bothers you, noble father?"

"You've changed much since you've come here," he said, never looking from Rollo. His eyes were determined but his body was slightly shaken. "And I feel that you are the man that my beloved daughter deserves. So, to protect her I ask you to answer my questions."

Rollo only nodded, watching the emperor closely. He looked unsure and hesitant to speak. Rollo realized that he'd probably come off a bit intimidating, watching his face so intently so he smiled, taking a step back.

"I want to know if you're truly a Christian man now, devoted to my daughter and your child?"

"I'd never hurt her or my son," Rollo ground out, his voice steady and slightly biting. He almost felt offense.

"And would you protect Frankia, Paris, long after I am gone?"

"I will protect my family and their kingdom until the day I die," Rollo said, watching him cautiously. "Emperor, why are you asking me this? Have I not proven myself time and time again? What makes you doubt me now?"

"Your ambition has always frightened me Rollo," he confessed, his voice breathy and unsure. "You may love my daughter and will love your son but do you want more? Do you want more than the role of protector of Paris? Do you not want a kingdom of your own?"

"I don't understand," Rollo said, still unsure of what he was alluding to.

"I am naming you Rollo, King of Normandy," the Emperor nodded, looking at him with a steely gaze. "You've proven yourself an ally and loyal subject. I will grant you the lands along the northern coast of Frankia to protect the Seine and Paris from barbarians and dangerous foes. I will also grant this kingdom to your sons and their sons so that there will always be a protector of Paris."

Rollo stood there a moment, stunned. He was the Duke of Normandy but to become a king, an equal to Ragnar in every way, was unbelievable. In this moment he wanted to yell and shout to Odin, to bid him look at what he'd accomplished but he then realized that this realization was heavy. Odin had abandoned him like Rollo had abandoned the Viking Gods. Rollo was so conflicted, praising the wonders of the Christian sense of charity and family amongst them but unsure if this was a blessing from God or Odin.

"You are not pleased?" the Emperor asked, his voice a little edged.

"I am beyond pleased," Rollo admitted, his voice surprisingly breathy. "I just cannot believe it. Now, I am equal to my brother, King Ragnar."

"No," the emperor said, shaking his head. "Not equal but greater than."

"Your kindness has overwhelmed me your majesty," Rollo said, shaking his head.

"I still have some questions for you to answer though, King Rollo," the Emperor smirked, standing from his throne again. "Tell me, how do I deal with Rolland and his pesky sister?"

Rollo was stunned for a second and then moved closer, his voice low. "You should get rid of them before they gain any more influence over your people."

The emperor looked as if he was studying Rollo a moment before nodding, a smile spreading across his face. "You and my daughter think alike and for that I can only thank God. Thank you for your advice my son. Go, get well for soon, I believe, we will have one last battle against your brother, King Ragnar."

Rollo only nodded, the thrill of battle giving him a bounce in his step. The night was long and as he lay there he could hear the sounds of the Viking army in the distance, drums and yelling. It was when he woke in the morning that the familiar buzz finally settled in his stomach. Gisla looked worried as he left her, kissing her lips gently and smiling when a tear escaped her eye.

"I'll be fine," Rollo nodded. "This is not my final battle."

"Come back to me husband," she whispered, looking at the servant who had come to fetch Rollo. He had to execute Odo before he sailed toward the Viking army and that satisfaction was slowly creeping into his face. Gisla was watching his closely as the Emperor spoke to the people of Paris, commanding them to witness Odo's betrayal. There was a loud cheer as Rollo raised his sword and when the blood sprayed his armor and hands, he couldn't help but smile. The rest of Paris was cheering, elated that their savior had once again saved them.

It was at the last moment, when Rollo was moving from the dock to his ship, that he felt Gisla's hand. She wrapped her fingers around his, pulled him to her frantically, and crushed a kiss onto his smirking lips. He held her close for a few minutes, feeling the small bulge between them where their baby grew. He sighed against her mouth and felt the soft tears on her cheeks.

"My love," he said with a nod, stepping back and placing a hand on her stomach. "I will come back to you."

All she did was nod as he turned from her, leaving her fingers hanging between them as he boarded the boat. The wind in his face, the sound of ores in water, and the banging of drums had overcome his senses. He loved every second of it and the frightened faces of his crew only served to make him smile wider. When he stood and addressed the soldiers they were astounded, fearful of his wrath should they show their fears again. It was a moving sight and Rollo knew that these men would do anything to save their city.

The battle ensued and Rollo was surprised by their ingenuity. He'd spotted his nephew Bjorn eyeing him angrily and also Ragnar, a look in his eye that Rollo had never seen before. He braced himself as they slammed into the Viking ships, his own war cry ringing out over the men around him. All morning he'd been ready for this, pulled taught and ready to spring on his enemies. He fought with deadly precision, the boat swaying underneath the commotion above.

It was a frightening battle for his men but he kept pushing them, screaming and telling them that they could succeed. It was when his brother finally made eye contact with Rollo that he paused, men moving aside for the ultimate showdown. Though the fighting, the struggle, and clash of swords and shields raged around them, both Rollo and Ragnar seemed calm, almost relaxed.

"So this is how you repay my love, brother?" Ragnar asked, his eyes wild. "This is how you pay me back for saving your miserable life?"

"We are equal now, brother," Rollo said, his voice low and dangerous. "I am King of Normandy and you have invaded my land." Without another moment's hesitation he swung his axe, nearly missing Ragnar as he brought his sword up, causing Rollo to jump back. They traded blows, steel on steel, fist on fist and the longer it went on, the more desperate Rollo was to get it over. He had this unnatural urge to prove himself and with every strike, with every bloody bruise and stinging crack he felt the need slowly subside.

There was so many issues that were now being worked out between them. Rollo had always felt inferior to his little brother, the man preferred by everyone. Growing up knowing that made him push even harder as a warrior but loosing Lagertha broke him. He wasn't a man anymore but a monster, pushing and pushing to always become better than Rangar in everyone's eyes. He never achieved it and this angered him even more, enhancing his blows every time.

He was winning but Rangar was matching his blows, feeling a cracking and flowing feeling in his nose when Rangar's fist connected to it. Between the grunting and screaming, anger and aggression, the tide had turned. Rollo could see his own troops overpowering the Vikings, the ships becoming cracked and sinking beneath them.

Rollo had just landed another blow when he felt himself being pulled back, slamming to the ground. He spun around, pushing himself up to see Ragnar had gone, his eyes searching crowd frantically. The Vikings were retreating onto their ships, screaming and swinging at the Frankish troops that chased them. Rollo regained his senses, his head pounding and his body aching. He felt like falling to his knees, to collapse onto the wooden deck but he stopped himself, watching as Bjorn glared at him through a bloody mask.

"Stop, let them go," Rollo called at the men in the ships, raising his hand. "We've won!"

There was loud cheering and screaming, the happiness of the troops overwhelming him until he finally did collapse to one knee, watching closely as the Viking ships frantically retreated. Their boats had saved them and at the moment, Rollo was thankful for their own boats. After a few moments of catching his breath, the action causing him discomfort, he stood, stabling his shaking legs.

"We've driven them out! Come, back to Paris!"

The docking and trek up to the gates on horseback was more painful that Rollo could have imagined. He felt his lungs searing, his eyes watering, and his body aching all over from his broken nose to his bruised ribs. He felt relieved when finally, the horse came to a halt just over the causeway into Paris. He swung his leg over the horse and grunted, nearly falling to the ground. He refused the help and stood straight, limping through the crowd of cheering people and happy faces. It took far too long, he thought, to reach Gisla but when she came, running into his arms his heart soared.

She kissed him hungrily and the whole crowd burst into cheers and encouragements. Rollo couldn't stop himself and he allowed her a long and languid kiss that made her knees shake. She then pulled away, a large smile on her now blood smeared face.

"Father! I give you the savior of Paris!" she said, pulling him forward to where the king sat. He stood, motioning for him to kneel before grabbing a golden crown from a servant's hands. He looked down at Rollo with such affection and when he placed the golden crown upon his head, he could feel relief wash over him. The Emperor then pulled him up from his knee, hugged him, and turned him around to face the smiling crowd.

"I give you King Rollo of Normandy and Savior of Paris! Hail Caesar!" the emperor yelled, his eyes sweeping over the crowd. The echo of "hail Caesar!" could be heard all around him, echoing off the great stone walls. He raised his hand, willing to speak to his happy citizens.

"God bless Paris!" Rollo yelled, a smile spreading over Gisla's face. She was beyond happy as the Parisian crowd erupted in joy and pride. That night was beyond anything Rollo had ever seen.

It was after a long hot bath and cleaning his wounds he was dressed and ready to face more people. Gisla had helped him the whole way and it was because of her needs that they were almost an hour late to her father's dinner. Rollo was still in immense pain but the drug that the apothecary had given him made him euphoric and excited.

Rollo was pleased to see his commanders Devloo, Fish, and Krey were dressed in the finest clothes they'd ever seen, enjoying soft music and the company of beautiful court ladies and nobles from around Paris. When Rollo and Gisla entered the Emperor stood from the long table and began clapping, waving for them to join him. It was after they were seated and the others had retaken their places did the dinner begin.

Rollo was beyond appreciative of the grand dinner and entertainment thrown in his honor but was less than willing to sit in the uncomfortable wooden chairs for hours on end. It was after the meal and the poetry that Rollo leaned to Gisla, whispering in her ear.

"I'll be going to bed soon my love," he said, placing a hand on her stomach. "Will you be going with me?"

"I'd love nothing more," she sighed, leaning her cheek against his head as he kissed her shoulder.

He smiled and leaned back now, lacing her fingers with his before turning to the Emperor who was deep in conversation with the new sheriff of Paris. He was a young man but Rollo recognized him as one of his own soldiers who'd risen quite a bit within his ranks. He was an excellent warrior.

"Majesty," Rollo said, getting the man's attention.

"Ah, King Rollo," he smiled, leaning toward him. "How may I help you?"

"Your charity is boundless," Rollo grinned. "I only ask that you accept my apologies but I am quite tired."

"No need to explain," he smiled, patting Rollo on the arm gently. "Go!" the Emperor smiled, looking about the table that was now looking at him. "Go and rest my son. I will send my physician in the morning. Sleep and rest well my children for Paris is safe."

The rest of the table erupted in cheer and clapping and Rollo and Gisla stood, leaving them with smiles and grateful bows. When they'd reached their room Rollo was nearly knocked over when Gisla grabbed his shoulders to pull his cloak off. She was hungry again but it wasn't for food.

"Gisla," he smiled, kissing her hungrily before pulling back, the pain in his ribs and face making him wince. She noticed and sighed, nodding her head at his discomfort.

"I know," she nodded, a smile creeping onto her lips. "Come on, let's just sleep." Rollo was relieved that she understood and after a teasingly slow strip tease from Gisla, which Rollo pretended not to see, she got into bed with him, her small hands tracing the bruises and cuts on his chest and neck.

They lay in each other's arms the rest of the night, Rollo satisfied to lay comfortable on his back and slip into a deep slumber. The next few days weren't so nice. The bruising and fractured bones were uncomfortable and Rollo was lying in bed constantly drinking the relaxing white liquid that the apothecary offered him. The bruising finally went down after three days and the fractured bones had started to reset. He still wasn't able to get out of bed for another week, trying his hardest to walk to the other room and back multiple time within that week.

He hated being pinned down and he hated that he felt so weak after the battle. He wondered if Ragnar felt the same. Gisla had kept him couped up, allowing his wounds and breaks to heal for a full two weeks before he lost it, nearly jumping out of bed as she told him she was celebrating the founding of Paris that night.

"Oh no," he said, standing on his feet and smiling. His aches were gone and his body felt fit. He could bend and move and wanted to test himself on stairs and in battle. He hated this room and he never thought he'd say that after all the good times he had had with his young wife. "I'm going. I'm healed and ready to get out of this damn room."

"Rollo!" she said, her eyes narrowing.

"Gisla," he said in a low rumble, a dangerous smirk coming over his face. "I'm going."

"Fine!" she huffed, her face a mix of annoyance and relief. "I'm just glad you're better. Now don't upset me…" She placed her hand on her stomach and Rollo crossed the room in two quick strides, taking her other hand in his.

"I would never…" he whispered, kissing her cheek. "I need to get out of this room Gisla. I need to start making plans as King."

She smirks, leaning up to kiss his lips. It was soft, chaste, but needy. "My king," she sighed. "Yes, we must make sure our son will be invested with a crown. I will get the grooms around. I've chosen the most loyal of families from Rouen and Paris to make up our household."

"You've been busy," he laughed, grazing her belly with his fingertips.

"I've been smart my love," she nodded. "We need strong warriors behind us as well as rich nobles and you have some of the best on your side."

"I'll decide that," Rollo smirked, his other hand grazing the side of her neck with the back of his fingers. She sighed as he did so and he couldn't hold it in. He nearly stole her breath when he started kissing her, wrapping his arms around her hips and down over her bottom before lifting her against him. He could feel her blushing furiously.

"Rollo!" she breathed, his lips capturing hers again as she hungrily reciprocated him. "The baby…"

"Shh…" he said, pulling back and looking down at her. "I know you're afraid and I will not make you do something you do not want to do but I am telling you, I have seen it before and the babies come out strong and healthy."

She was breathing heavily into his neck, her lips brushing his skin as she rested against him, his ferocity and need coming to a head. She bit her lip as he spoke and she almost ground herself against him when his voice took on that protective tone. He must have noticed because he grinned, running a hand down her hip and over her thighs.

"Rollo," she whispered again and this time he knew what she needed. She didn't have to tell him, didn't have to speak anymore words. The haughty need and defiant tone which she reprimanded him was enough to tell him that she wanted it just as bad as he did. She captured his mouth with hers and the rest of the morning was a blur of blankets, flesh, and ecstasy.


	18. Request From The Author

Greetings readers.

Quick update for all of you. I created a forum and would love to get to know some of my readers and fans. I would also like to find active members on this site to talk to and basically form friendships with. Open to all topics and fandoms! Please, consider getting involved. If not, that's fine but I would much appreciate it.

Again, thanks to all my readers out there! You guys are awesome and I couldn't love you more.

forum/Active-Members-Only/202180/


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